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Everybody’s Stupid, CLIX

First of all, don’t judge me. Secondly, all y’all care about is drama and trauma, right? To be real, I don’t mind giving motherfuckers something to talk about. When was the last time you felt humiliated? For me, I don’t really remember any incidents as a teen or adult. However, there was this one time when I was a kid. And I can’t remember if I’ve told this story on the blog before, but this was very humiliating. When I was in elementary school, we’d go to the YMCA and swim twice a week. This was a fancy little public school in Decatur, GA, and I loved it there. I had my first movie-like letdown at that school, when my punk-ass dad said that he was going to make it to my school play and never showed up. That level of disappointment stays with a kid for a while, so if you’re a parent, please try your best to keep your promises. Anyway, one time in the pool, this girl from my class backed me into a corner while we were doing jumping jacks and continued to jump with her butt against my penis. Needless to say, I ended up with an erection. This was maybe the third grade, so I didn’t know what was going on, I just knew that my penis had never felt like that before. Y’all, I had a serious rock-hard, raging erection. Don’t envision it because that would be weird, but shit was real! When the class got out of the pool, I stayed in because I didn’t know what to do. The teacher came back to get me, and when she saw why I was hesitant to exit the water, she just started laughing. When I got to the changing room, one of my little buddies was like, “Wow, how did you do that?!” I was a cute-ass kid, so girls really liked me until I was like 12 years old. From around 13 to 17, chicks laughed at me and bullied me, but I still did my thing. Between 18 to about 21, I was more awkward than I was as a teenager, and I had debilitating anxiety that came out of nowhere. I began to come into myself at around 22 years old, and by 28 I had been there and done that with the ladies. But let me move on. Believe it or not, though I enjoy solitude, I haven’t spent much time depressed in my life. And I’ve always wondered what’s different about the way my brain functions that inhibits deep despondency where many people would succumb swiftly. Well, soon I’ll write a book about it. But until then, I’ll keep blogging around the topic. Diverging slightly, would you rather be a well-kept secret or someone who is shared with everyone? In this scenario, let’s remove fortune and fame from the equation. If you were only to be recognized exclusively, with no other benefit or reward, would you want to be rare or regular? Personally, I treat this blog like a boutique of sorts, and I consider myself a rarity. Even with damn-near everyone podcasting and pontificating online these days, I believe I provide a lot of recherché rhetoric. For me, setting myself apart from the riffraff and rank-and-file is required. If the average person comes a dime a dozen, I want to be one of one. Because we all know that too much of a good thing makes you question what’s really good. So, what’s really good? There’s sex, entertainment, food, automobiles, fashion, etc. And in all of those industries, the best shit is the hardest to acquire. So, with that in mind, if you want to be highly valued, why would you ever want to be easily obtainable?

On the night of Juneteenth, I took two “CBD” gummies that had me high as fuck for about 36 hours straight. The two gummies were labeled as 60 milligrams each, so you do the math. Usually, CBD doesn’t have much of an effect on me, but those motherfuckers were potent. To top it off, because it’s so damn hot down here in Georgia, I’ve been sweating excessively during my morning cardio workouts, and I was mildly dehydrated while high. Let me tell y’all something, being high and dehydrated is a horrible combination! I was so high and drained that I didn’t work out at all for the rest of the week. Here’s a quick tip, if you find that you’re dehydrated, just stir in a small amount of pink Himalayan or iodized salt with a full glass of water and drink it. Also, to stay regularly hydrated, do the same thing daily. Of course, there’s sports drinks, but salt and water are cheaper and likely always available to you. The trick is, you only want to barely taste the salt. Sodium is an electrolyte, and your body can’t fully absorb water without electrolytes, so water itself won’t hydrate you much. Still, it’s common sense to drink as much water as possible during summer months. While I was high, my ego died, and I began to doubt myself. And that doubt scared the fuck out of me. Honestly, I’ve never experienced that level of uncertainty before. But when I sobered up, I realized that doubt is a motivator—at least for me. Doubt and fear go hand in hand, and the fear of doubtfulness encompassing my life invigorates me to assure it never happens. Once again, to expose your haters, start telling people why you love yourself. Among a shitload of things, I love myself because I’m not a soft or sensitive male. There’s nothing truthful about me that a person can tell me that I haven’t already told myself. And introspection is a great method of obtaining and maintaining confidence. Knowing who you are and accepting it prevents weak-ass, hateful-ass people from having adverse effects on your mental health. You may not recognize it because motherfuckers don’t say my name, but I keep these niggas in their feelings. Honestly, many of you niggas are more attractive than me, you’re famous, and you have money, but I still make you second guess yourselves from the cheap-ass futon in my humble abode. Why is that? It’s because you niggas don’t really believe in yourselves, sorry. I wish I would give a fuck about what another man thinks of me, I’d rather get a sex change! The same function of my fortitudinous mentality that hinders depression also obstructs offense. Simply, if you understand that there’s nothing you can do to stop people from having their own opinions, then you comprehend that people hating you has less to do with who you are and more to do with the hater’s interpretation of you. People believe what they want and see only what they’re capable of. If someone doesn’t care to see who you truly are or believe what you’ve proven, they’re going to hate you no matter what you do. For instance, why do people still condemn Chris Brown? Hip hop’s favorite podcaster has a history of domestic violence, hip hop’s favorite producer has assaulted multiple women, and hip hop itself doesn’t favor the fairer sex, but everybody hates Chris!? Tell me that ain’t some bullshit. People are so flaky and fugazi that I don’t even want many motherfuckers to like me. Too many people liking me would make me feel like they believe we have something in common, and I’d never be as fake and faithless as you fool-ass folks are! Be real, because B’s real. Peace.

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