I don't want to make you my girlfriend, Felix. Too many grown men already did when you were a child and it sounds like they left you all worn out, you shit-dribbling bowlegged cumsock. Your farts are soundless, Felix. Worthless fucking trash. I hope you kill yourself, Felix. I hope you kill yourself and when you get to hell you see your cumbloated whore of a dead mother looking up at you from around a girthy red column of demon dick and she daintily plucks the throbbing jisming demon cock out of her mouth and wipes the river of cum off her chin to say "Oh hi, this is awkward. Why don't you stay to the east of that caldera and I'll stay on the west" and then a big burly demon puts his hand on your shoulder and gently steers you off to another part of hell where you won't bother your own biological mother with your insufferable existence, because literally nobody in this world or the next loves you or wants to be around you, and they never will.