“Baby, you understand me now. If sometimes you see that I’m mad. Don’t you know no one alive can always be an angel. When everything goes wrong, you see some bad. I’m just a soul whose intentions are good…” Being misunderstood may make many people panic as they pray that people perceive them as they believe they actually are. Confidence comes from recognizing reliability in one’s own belief in themselves. So, being misunderstood can crush confidence by prompting perturbed, pressurized people to question themselves and their worth. Additionally, it becomes way worse when confidence-craving people toil to prove themselves to cretinous critics, as if self-assurance, self-reliance, and self-worth are earned or rewarded instead of being recognized and reinforced by self. Personally, I understand that understanding ain’t possible for pea-brained people, and because I ultimately understand that everybody’s stupid, fuck ‘em! Remember, the algorithm ain’t send you here. Those fake-ass fans, followers, so-called supporters, subscribers, etc. that internet personalities pray, pretend, and perform for would never motivate me more than I motivate myself. As a matter of fact, this blog is approximately eight years old, and that statement speaks for itself. What’s more, because I’m super serious about setting an excellent example—being an intentional inspiration for the idiosyncratic and individualistic—making my mark monumental is mandatory. Aside from “God,” if anybody is misinterpreted, misunderstood, and misrepresented, it’s intellectuals. But speaking of stupid, do you know how I know y’all are stupid? It’s because you think people don’t discern the distinctive, defining difference between talking the talk and walking the walk. Anybody who considers the collective of celebrity co-conspirators capable of creating change probably prays to collaborate with or convert to a celebrity co-conspirator—meaning they misunderstand the mission of making a difference. How the figgity fuck can you follow footsteps and create change or do different things? This path, my path, is purely personal—paved personally. And since the “gift from God” is good on me, there’s no real reason for me to make more room for roamers. Solitude is my solace, and it’s coincidentally the only way to climb levels of consciousness. Evading evil energies, prioritizing patience, thinking thoroughly, ignoring ignorance, sharpening skills, finding focus, and regularly, repetitively remembering and remaining true to who you are essential for escaping the “Matrix.” Unfortunately for y’all, it’s highly unlikely that any of you will ever be free. The more validation, acceptance, and approval you need, the lower your chances are for freeing yourself. Actors, artists, and aspirers, what do you want to be famous for? Is it making more money than most motherfuckers? Is it being better at something entertaining than other entertainers in that specific space? Is it perpetuating performative politics and purposely preventing problem-solving? For me, if oversimplifying it, I want to be famous for factually fucking the world. What does that mean? Well, remember those cretinous critics aforementioned? I’m going to make it a trend and traditional for stupid motherfuckers to never speak without telling the truth! What would a ridiculously religious world do if all offensive opinions were believed to be blasphemous? But going back to fucking the world, even if we’re in Hell, and only the Devil can be king, motherfuckers, crown me—in real life! Because I’ll redefine devilishness. Y’all don’t get it. Anyhoo, this curse could be one of the greatest gifts that your God gives particular people. The fucked-up part is, too many brainless blockheads believe they’re “chosen,” and their crazy claims may make me sound silly. Luckily, I’ve provided plenty of proof. Like this disturbingly deceptive doppelgänger, and no, those are not the same people. Now, stop fuckin’ playing with me, “God,” before I expose your endlessly evil ass beyond belief—and make it believable! Or are you the Devil? And for the rest of you, motor-mouth motherfuckers, “The Matrix” is about me! Shit, the whole “Yeezuz” album alludes to me. And it definitely doesn’t stop there. Like I said, I’m “Neo,” “John Connor,” and essentially everyone characterized as change-creators in mainstream movies and music—I’m who you wish you were. But you’re not strong enough, are you? Fuck outta here! And soon…
P.S., Mrs. “Gift,” please stop being so deeply depressed. Because I can fuckin’ feel you—literally—and it’s utterly unfair. We both know that I could express exactly what you need to hear, no matter what’s wrong, so let me help you or tell your God you’re done—and mean it. If you haven’t checked your emails, please do.