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HOLY FUCKING OBSESSED SAMEFAG
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nice esl retard
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use the blow my whistle post of me if you like molesting children
Let me fix that
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Counter Point: We Are Not Jimbo We Do Not Molest Children You Can Continue Whistle Posting
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https://www.soyjak.st/soy/thread/11918099.html
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die
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GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGEEGEGGEGEGEG DID YOU SERIOUSLY SAY THIS JIMBO!? YOU!????? OH MY LOREDEDEDEDOOOO! YOU ACTUALLY CANNOT BE SERIOUS COMING FROM YOU OF ALL PEOPLE, EL KING OF ALL THE LOSERS AND PEDOS IN THE SOYSPHERE
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>Can you blow my oneshot baby oneshot baby let me know
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Kys ESL oneshot pedo pajeet
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die in your rage oneshot pedo jeet
Can you blow my onebrown baby onebrown baby let me know, can you blow my oneaids baby oneaids baby let me know
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https://www.soyjak.st/raid/thread/197124.html#bottom
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Do this.
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Damage control
Keep lying only one person pushes oneshart brimstone
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Trans woman of color here. Before I say what I'm about to say I'd just like to make it clear that I never post here, mainly due to the fact that interacting with so called "4chan culture" is quite disheartening. So I'm going to say this as clearly and efficiently as possible.
Fuck. All. Of. You.
There, I said it. If you'd like an explanation, all you have to do is look at your own behavior, and understand how it effects the world around you. As a trans woman I feel the deep rooted forces of oppression you sick fucks emanate every day of my life. The shit I have to go through to please disgusting individuals such as yourselves. It doesnt help that I'm a woman of color. So on top of that, I have to deal with the fucking systemic racism YOU and YOUR people started and continue to promote. My life is a living hell because of you people. But that's not why I hate you. Oh not even close sweetie.
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I'm going to go kiss my boyfriend now, how does that make YOU feel bigots?
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Hola brap
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We gather with heavy hearts to remember Antiswarthy-a man who lived simply but left a lasting mark on those who truly saw him. Short in stature and chubby in frame, he resided in a modest hut, lived on his own terms, and walked through life with a spirit that was raw, real, and entirely his.
Of African descent, Antiswarthy cherished his roots and found deep joy in the bold, comforting flavors of Afro cuisine. Meals with him were more than sustenance-they were expressions of love, memory, and identity. Food was one of the many ways he kept his culture close, and he shared it generously.
He was a person of contradictions-gentle but blunt, quiet but unforgettable. He bore a scent that many found hard to ignore-earthy, unapologetic, and part of the unfiltered truth he carried in every aspect of his life. Antiswarthy did not pretend. He was who he was.
Tragically, Antiswarthy died by suicide. We do not pretend to understand the weight he carried, nor the pain that brought him to that moment. But we do know this: he mattered. His life, in all its complexity, was worthy of love, compassion, and remembrance.
Let us not define him by how he left us, but remember him for how he lived-with honesty, depth, cultural pride, and a stubborn refusal to be anyone but himself. May we carry forward his memory not only with sorrow, but with tenderness and truth.
Rest peacefully, Antiswarthy.
You were seen. You are missed. You are loved.
We gather with heavy hearts to remember Antiswarthy-a man who lived simply but left a lasting mark on those who truly saw him. Short in stature and chubby in frame, he resided in a modest hut, lived on his own terms, and walked through life with a spirit that was raw, real, and entirely his.
Of African descent, Antiswarthy cherished his roots and found deep joy in the bold, comforting flavors of Afro cuisine. Meals with him were more than sustenance-they were expressions of love, memory, and identity. Food was one of the many ways he kept his culture close, and he shared it generously.
He was a person of contradictions-gentle but blunt, quiet but unforgettable. He bore a scent that many found hard to ignore-earthy, unapologetic, and part of the unfiltered truth he carried in every aspect of his life. Antiswarthy did not pretend. He was who he was.
Tragically, Antiswarthy died by suicide. We do not pretend to understand the weight he carried, nor the pain that brought him to that moment. But we do know this: he mattered. His life, in all its complexity, was worthy of love, compassion, and remembrance.
Let us not define him by how he left us, but remember him for how he lived-with honesty, depth, cultural pride, and a stubborn refusal to be anyone but himself. May we carry forward his memory not only with sorrow, but with tenderness and truth.
Rest peacefully, Antiswarthy.
You were seen. You are missed. You are loved.