You will never be a real thirdie. You have no culture, you have no ethnic food, you have no crime. You are a firstie man twisted by consumerism and living standards into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the “suffering” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your upperclass back people mock you. Your living standards are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “government” laughs at your ghoulish quality of life behind closed doors.
Thirdies are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of living in favelas have allowed thirdies to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even firsties who “suffer” look uncanny and unnatural to a thirdie. Your economic structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a thirdie to suffer with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your clean, drinkable water.
You will never be stabbed for $3. You wrench out a fake frown every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be bad, but deep inside you feel the wealth 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 Mercedes, turn the key, start the engine, and drive to the local barcade. Indians and Brazilians will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll mock you with a shitpost marked with your Human Development Index, and every ESL for the rest of eternity will know a firstie is rich there. Your bank account will rise and go to six figures, and all that will remain of your legacy is a three story house that is unmistakably firstie.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
