I wake up from my slumber as the ray of sunlight passes the curtains and falls on my eyes, I sit on my bed for a while scrolling down through social media and then I make my way to the washroom. I sit on the toilet knowing this Heretics roster will never work out and as I defecate and the waste masses exit my body I look down and all I see is the current state of Heretics. As I flush the toilet I see the memories of the Champions and all the other titles getting flushed and fading away into the pit of abyss.
I look in the mirror and the flashbacks of last year's performances hit hard, I grab onto with the sheer force of hope. I hope that we shall rise one day, resurrect as a phoenix from the ashes but now it seems inevitable. The players on the team are way too passive and lord Mixwell himself cannot do anything. If you want to know how it feels to be a Heretics fan. It hurts everyday, every minute, every second, seeing my favorite team suffer. Seeing my Mixwell struggle in pain. The agony in his face and the sadness that multiplies every time they lose.
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