How My Bad Handwriting May Have Branded Me For Life

So I've seen my school's yearbook for 2010 (the year I've graduated in), and all graduating students get a profile shot that takes up maybe a quarter of a page, complete with their photo and a list of answers they gave to questions earlier in the year. One question was "What do you want to do in 10 years time?". Of course, being the little goldmine of hilarity that I am (shut up, I am!), I came up with a fantastic answer:

"I want to meet Candlejack and tell him t"

It's flawless. It's amazing. It's great. I will be forever remembered as the one who referenced a hilarious meme in their yearbook, to be preserved forevermore and be craved by people the world over when I become famous.

So I look at my page and gaze upon the quote that would seal my future as a hilarious joker:

"What do you want to do in 10 years over time? - I want to meet CANDLESACK and tell him t"

My heart implodes. My brain goes numb. This is not good. This is terrible. Candlesack. CANDLESACK. I dash to my whiteboard and write the letter 'j'. Oh no. When I'm rushed, as I'm sure I was when I answered the question all those months ago, this is what my 'j's look like:

To a typist, or a computer scanner, this 'j' would most definitely look like an 's'.

No. No. NO NO NO NO NO! This cannot be happening. But it is. This is worse than the time I broke my arm in primary school and blamed the school bully. This is worse than the time we ran out of Tim Tams just before the first time I was to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. This is worse than CANCER.

My mind goes over the possibilities. At my 21st, they will show this. "Hey, Sean, do you still want to meet CandleSACK?". When I'm already famous at aged 27, they'll do a report on me. "So, Sean, world-famous ________, ______ of such _______ as _______ and _______, now that you're 27, DID you end up meeting CandleSACK!?" Oh, how it tormented me. For the rest of my life I would be cowering, hiding, drowning in the sea of 'XD' faces that will suffocate me with their laughter.

So my ingenious mind thought of a plan. A plan that may work. It will take time, but it could happen. Please draw your attention to the drawing below:

This, my friends, is Candlesack, Candlejack's cousin. His limbs are like bony tree branches and he carries a single candle. He has terribly evil eyes on his head, a seemingly filled sack tied around his body with a stitched mouth. When you say his name, he arrives as a frightening spectre and steals your voice, which he keeps in the sack he carries on a rope with all the other voices of those who say his name.

And now I wait. Wait for Candlesack to spread. Copy and paste him over the internet, draw him yourselves, joke around with friends. Maybe, just MAYBE, over the years, he will become well-known enough to justify my dreadful mistake, and my future will be saved.

UPDATE: Yeah, just re-read the shame again, and it' doesn't even say "Candlesack and tell him t", it just says "candlesack". Yeah, no extra part on the end, no capitalization. Just "I want to meet candlesack".
WRITERS. ARE. FUCKING. RETARDED.

P.S: For those who don't know, I have another blog: Ones Who Does Not Have Triforce Can't Go In. I'm blogging about my attempt to complete the first NES Zelda game, and it's rapidly filling with swearing, raging and the occasional blog cliche. It'll also contain a bit of info on my ACTUAL life, not just funny stories (although funny stories are pretty fantastic).