Its a parody of the YWNBAW copypasta but changed to General Brasch, a war hero who guides new recruits from Helldivers 2.

You will never be General Brasch. You have no skill, you have no Super Destroyer, you have no stratagems that would make Brasch ever want you. You are a shut-in self-hating SEAF trooper twisted by delusions of mythical Helldiver superiority and exposure to mobile infantry media into a disgusting mockery of nature’s perfection. All 'validation' you get from other people in this position couldn't be worse in making you believe that spending years of your life stanning a mediocre conscript to an SEAF tactician's was a worthwhile use of your time, but one can't expect that a conscript trooper as pathetic as you will ever know the value of the time you threw away in doing that. Actual Helldivers are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of combat evolution have allowed heroes to identify frauds from mannerisms and tactics alone. Even if your combat skill of a troop leader's and flashy title akin to a war hero's somehow passes as normal (it won't), any Helldiver will immediately cut all ties when they see the outfit and stratagems of someone who is not only a basic SEAF trooper at best, but worth no more than garbage in skills, accomplishments, and likeability. You will never be a Helldiver. You wrench out a fake smile and laugh to yourself believing that simping a general that you understand 20% of at best is somehow superior than finding a meaningful career, as you project your disgusting traits onto your entire kind. However, deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight, and you know that. You know that all you do now is have an entirely new fighting medium in which to be ignored, and not even the exotic trait of being SEAF makes up for just how uninteresting of a conscript you are. Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll go into a Super Destroyer, enter a Hellpod, dive, and plunge into a chasm on Menkent. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your SEAF conscript rank, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a low-life trooper is buried there. Your Hellpod will decay through the tides of war, and all that will remain of your legacy is a wrecked Hellpod that is unmistakably a conscript's. This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. Hate yourself and apologize for being mid to some Brasch entity that exists only in your mind while actual Helldivers put in effort to learn ground combat for the valid reason of it being the way to defend Super Earth. 

You are a Helldiver. You have no skill, you have no Super Destroyer, you have no good stratagems, but that doesn't matter. You are a valid soldier who is trying to feel patriotic in their service.

All the “validation” you get is pure. Behind your back Super Earth loves you. Your teammates are happy and proud of you, your enemies cry at your attacks behind closed doors, and Helldivers love you, and bugs and bots envy you.

Helldivers absolutely love you. Soldiers who pass training look like heroes to a Helldiver. Your stratagems do not matter. Your skills will improve.

You will be happy. You will smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, and deep inside you feel the euphoria creeping up like a weed. It is what defines you, not the terminids or automatons.

Eventually, it’ll be perfect for you - you’ll apply for it, start training, get your cape, get a Super Destroyer and finally be your ideal self. Your team mates will find you, happy and relieved that they finally have a happy war hero. They’ll congratulate you on your hard journey, and every soldier for the rest of eternity will know a Helldiver is what you are.