My sheer mass has become a curse. What was once a testament to manhood is now a monument to my suffering. I did not ask for this gargantuan burden, this unwieldy slab of human excess, yet here I stand—wide, weary, and unable to sit comfortably in most chairs.

I cannot simply exist in society. I have been denied entry from theme parks for exceeding the weight limit of individual ride seats. I have been kicked out of public pools after lifeguards mistook my underwater displacement for a natural disaster. Airlines refuse to accommodate my dimensions, as I am technically classified as "oversized cargo."

No bed can hold me. No jeans can contain me.

I once attempted romance, foolishly believing that love could conquer girth. But my first and only girlfriend met a tragic fate when she attempted to sit on my lap, only to be launched skyward like a human trebuchet projectile. The coroner ruled her passing as "blunt force trauma due to unforeseen circumference." I mourned her loss, but I could not carry her casket—for my arms were too preoccupied lugging this monstrosity attached to my body.

Doctors say there is no solution. Medical science is at a loss. “We simply don’t have the storage space,” they told me when I begged for a reduction. Landfills refuse my excess. There is nowhere to put it.

I have tried to end it all, but my structural integrity resists all attempts at collapse. I threw myself off a building, but the sheer drag coefficient slowed my fall to a gentle descent. I stood in front of a moving train, yet upon impact, the locomotive derailed while I remained unmoved.

I am not a man. I am a geographical feature.

I do not wish for sympathy. I only ask that future generations remember my struggle, so that no other man must suffer under the weight of his own enormity.

💦 "Load successfully dispensed—yet the burden remains." 💦