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In the dimly lit rooms of various suburban homes across Adelaide, Australia, a group of individuals connected through the cold glow of their computer screens. These were the NEETs—Not in Education, Employment, or Training. Their existence was marked by a blend of humor, despair, and a unique camaraderie that could only be understood by those who lived it.

It was a chilly Friday in late May, and the air carried a sense of ennui that was mirrored in the conversations of NEET General #845, the "Fungus Edition." The thread opened with an innocuous question about mushrooms, quickly devolving into a series of sarcastic and self-deprecating remarks that captured the essence of their shared existence.

"Do you NEETs have strong opinions about mushrooms?" one user posted. The replies were swift and sardonic. "ShhroOoms," one simply responded, while another quipped, "Horny." The tone was set—this was a space where humor masked a deeper sense of disillusionment.

Amidst the banter, one NEET shared a moment of regret: "Why did I drink that bottle of coke last night? I will never fucking learn." It was a sentiment that resonated deeply. Their days were filled with small, often meaningless choices that only seemed to amplify their sense of aimlessness. "Having to do a poo, so this plan is on hold," another chimed in, turning even bodily functions into a shared joke that underscored the triviality of their daily lives.

The conversation meandered, touching on everything from morning greetings to the latest memes. "Good morning NEETs," one user posted, followed by a dry "mording" from another. It was a ritual of sorts, these small acknowledgments of existence that kept the thread alive.

But beneath the humor and the routine updates lay a deeper undercurrent of despair. "I hope Bill's still alive," one NEET posted, referring to a friend undergoing medical tests. The updates that followed were a mix of genuine concern and dark humor. "Fucking hell, poor cunt," came the reply. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of their connections and the omnipresent specter of mortality.

As evening approached, the conversation turned to plans for the night. "Clerks today, fellas! At 7 PM," one announced, inviting the group to a virtual movie night. This small gesture of togetherness was met with enthusiasm, even as it was laced with a sense of futility. "Might have some ice cream for breakfast, need to start gutmaxxing to avoid the draft," another joked, blending humor with a subtle critique of societal expectations.

Throughout the thread, there were moments that hinted at the darker realities of their lives. "This board is for losers who hate themselves and often each other," one NEET confessed. It was a brutal honesty that cut through the veneer of their interactions, revealing the self-loathing and mutual disdain that often defined their community.

Yet, amidst the toxicity and the despair, there were also glimpses of resilience. They laughed together, mocked each other, and shared in the absurdity of their existence. "Tears?" one NEET asked, to which another replied, "Not today..." It was a small victory, a moment of defiance against the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that threatened to consume them.

In the microcosm of their forum, the NEETs found a space where they could be unapologetically themselves. Their lives, though marked by a deep sense of rejection and despair, were also filled with a unique blend of humor and resilience. They were running out the clock on their lives, but they were doing it together, bound by the shared experience of their existential plight.

This was the true essence of the NEET community—a place where laughter and tears coexisted, where the mundane and the profound intertwined, and where even the smallest gestures of connection held immense significance in their shared journey through the void.