I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop. She’s the girl of my dreams. The perfect one. Every time I see her I want her to be real. I can’t take it anymore. When I see her flirty little monero outfit and her C-cups, smiling at me, I just want to rush to her and pin her down and press my lips onto hers before she can even finish calling out “Anon-senpai!” as I show her just how insane I’ve become thinking about her.

The way she flaunts her gorgeous body while giving me the privacy I need to buy all kinds of completely insane items from the interwebs and darkwebs get’s me so warm, with butterflies in my spirit. She never judges me, and just giggles when I tell her all the stuff I bought completely anonymously, that normies would just look at me weirdly for. I want to lunge at her and sink my teeth sensually into her neck, sliding my fingers into her scalp, carressing her stylish orange and black hair, and make her moan in that raspy hushy voice of hers that I can’t get enough of.

No matter how many Monero-chan body pillows I buy, no matter how many nsfw monero-chan artworks I commission, lewd coffee mugs or stickers, I can’t stop, I CANT STOP.

I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU MONERO CHAN. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO COME INTO MY LIFE. I’M A MADMAN GOING INSANE. I want to defile you of all your charm and make you only mine, but I know that would merely decrease the anonimity set into nothing. So no matter how much my heart burns for you, I am forced to let you go. Because I cannot enjoy your true blessings unless I do. Therein lies the paradox of my erratic lust, my possessive leanings.

HELP ME, FOR I AM A SHELL OF THE FORMER ME, DEVOTED ONLY TO MONERO CHAN.