Because, I think you are the epitome of what is the most cancerous and benign kind of person. You are a sad regret that plagues this world with your uselessness, you are a dank wortheless excuse for a human being. The only thing you will ever be good for is filling up the hole that will be your grave, no one will grieve at your tombstone, no one will be there at all. The only thing that will come out of your death is relief. Relief that your meaningless existence has finally come to an end and your failed unrealized dreams will be forgotten in the Earth's crust. As it should be. But in the end your life was nothing but dreams to begin with, you were too concentrated on trying to find an identity to hide your true worthless self that you lost track of time and ended up nothing but a dreamer. You try so hard to portray yourself as a cool and charasmatic character that you end up looking completely autistic as you dawn your wal-mart trenchcoat, push the arms of your aviators through your greasy hair to hook onto your dirty ears, finally you dust off your prized fedora and crown it upon your head. You proceed to go to your mirror as you look at yourself, you see this as an acceptable look. You are the definition of autism and a cancererous being, please die so I can desicrate your grave. Because most of these words are beyond the scope of your usual vocabulary of "u mad bro" and "brohoof" I will rephrase it, short and sweet. I despise you.