You will never be a real Brit. You are not Welsh, you are not Scottish, you are not English. You are a Irishman twisted by Unionism and colonialism into a crude mockery of Europe's worst shithole.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back Brits mock you. Your Mps are disgusted and ashamed of you, your "Allies" laugh at your marches and bonfires behind closed doors.
Brits are utterly repulsed by you. 8 Hundred of years of colonisation have allowed Brits to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even Unionists who “pass” sound uncanny and unnatural to a Brit . Your shite accent is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a Drunk Scot to do a bonfire, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your hatred of Catholics.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a car, make a bomb put it under your car, and blow it up. The Gardai will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you near headstonesmarked with the Irish language, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an Irishman is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your so called "nation" is a vague mention in history books.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.