This is a tale that is not a tale with a happy ending. I was once a young boy like you. I was dank. I was the dankest of all but I was quickly overcome by the dankness. A young boy as I once was, as you are now, is not equipped with capacities to channel dankness of the caliber blistered through me. The dankness always takes over. Never forget what I am telling you right now. One cannot sleep a night when they have the dankness in their life. I'm pleading sorry to the past and begging for a future not crippled by the blood and despair spawned by dankness' unholy wrath. Don't let my tale go untold. Don't let the dankness in your life. You won't regret taking my advice. After everything I've been through, it's the least you can do for me. Is that so much to ask for? I fear that the dankness is coming back. I'm beginning to lose sleep again and I find myself frequenting the dankest places in the lowly bowels of the place we call our home, the Internet, the World Wide Web, call it whatever the Hell you want, but it is an unrelenting Hell, there's no denying it, not even the dankness, as advanced as it has become across the long, stretched eons of the universe, can deny it. We are in a lot of trouble if any of you let the dankness take over your life. I can say it a thousand times and still not be assured that there will be no causalities in this ongoing, never-ending war that brings nothing but death, destruction, and a temporary peacefulness for the cowardly savages who yearn for nothing more than our blood. We are a doomed race. The dankness will take over. Save yourself and save humanity, but leave me to rot in my own agonizing insanity. I was created by this war so I will drown with it. Nevermore will I ever want a piece of your world to be a piece of mine. This is my death sentence that I deserve. This is my death sentence, not yours. Please do not take my death away from me. Take away my suffering. The dankness is not a force to be reckoned with.