What would you do if there were nothing and nobody genuine around you? What if I told you that you’re likely already flourishing as an inauthentic person amongst assimilating people? Everybody hates themselves these days, which is exhibited by the normalization of surgical bodily customization, and the justification of being artificial and actorly as a propensity. In my opinion, people live as if reality is too real to accept. If being yourself is ever so stressful that faking becomes strenuous, which is worse? Diverging slightly, I believe that introversion often gets a bad rep and has a negative connotation because many introverts are erroneously perceived as depressed or dastardly as their repelling of people and refraining from socializing are ignorantly associated with mental illness. But in reality, many of us just don’t want to be fake with you fake-ass motherfuckers! It’s obvious that humans are a headache, right? If we all understand that humans are at the least terrible and troublesome, wouldn’t those of us who rebuff the tolerating of trying and tiresome human interaction be the sane ones? If I appreciate that there’s something wrong with motherfuckers and I decide not to deal with them, how does that mean something’s wrong with me? Sure, you could make the argument that I’m closed-minded and cold-hearted for not caring to get to know people that I don’t care about, but just the fact that you believe it’s prudent to make said argument is a testament to the pretentiousness and insolence that makes humans difficult to deal with! Who the fuck are you to tell anyone who they should be, what they should do, how they should feel, or to dictate any of their actions, reactions, or interactions? If you’re paying attention, you should notice that I’m almost never compelling people to be like me—I’m more so enforcing the acceptance and application of autonomy. What’s more, I’ve never claimed to be rich, or extremely good looking, or even to have everything figured out. Yet, you assume that I’d be successful because you acknowledge that I’m smarter you. You realize that the women around you like me because I’m intelligent, inspirational, intense, and immensely talented. And you believe that my life should be perfect because I apprehend many of the things that you misapprehend. What I’m saying is, for the judgmental and disparaging ones of you, what you think of me has nothing to do with the facts that I’m providing to you and everything to do with the fact that you’re pretentious and insolent! If you recognize that I’m different and respect my distinctiveness but wonder why I don’t want to be more like everybody else, motherfuckers, make that make sense! It’s hard being real out here, I can’t lie. How in touch with reality are you? Honestly, I’ve always believed that I am destined to be a dominant disruptor, at a minimum. And I pity the people who get or have gotten the notion that there’s anything they can do to throw my disruption into disorder! In part, to be in touch with reality you must be receptive to all the things that you are hesitant to accept, because those are almost always going to be the realest things. And right now, some of you are killing yourselves attempting to avoid accepting my appreciable aptitude for interrupting ignorance! I make being intelligent seem like the realest shit that a motherfucker can be, don’t I? Once again, I would like to inform everyone that I will die before I let a stupid motherfucker tell me who I am! And I’ll be a liar and a fraud in your eyes before I’ll be anyone other than me in reality. Now, allow me to be cheesy to annoy my haters, and poetic to moisten their misses. We aren’t validated by the opinions of the opposing, instead we are valued by the outcome of our objectives. And where the soulless lie, the spirited soar!
Honestly, I didn’t know the race of Kamala Harris’ parents either, because I’m not racist, so I don’t care. Shout-out to Janet Jackson for not giving a fuck about shit that doesn’t matter. Do you know what has been irking me while listening to people discuss this year’s election? It’s been all the stupid motherfuckers trying to sound smart and being ostentatiously politically correct by suggesting that voters should evaluate both candidates to determine who’s the best choice, as if choosing the turd over the honey roasted turkey at a two-option buffet makes sense. Bitches, the choices are a terror or a treasure, why the fuck would anyone tactful even consider the former?! People really annoy the fuck out of me, and I refuse to feel bad for admitting that. Moving on, how difficult is it for you to move on? Personally, I have a tougher time forming attachments than I do detaching from people and situations. To my relatives, who’ve all lied about not reading my blog, the last time y’all saw me may just be the last time you’ve seen me. Y’all don’t enhance my life in any way, I don’t feel happier around you, I don’t hate you but I’m not sad about progressing without you, and I intend to live long and accomplish great things. If that triggers anyone, my apologies. Getting back to the topic of reality, relationships don’t last forever—that’s a fact of life. Therapy would never work for me because I know enough. If keeping it simple, respect and reciprocity are all that healthy relationships need. If respect is having regard for people’s rights and what they require, and if reciprocity is respectfully returning said regard, what is there to rant and rave over? But because this is reality, the problem with relationships will regularly arise from the respective parties raising rivaling interpretations of respect. And when egos and emotions are involved, everybody’s the enemy. I’m not an overly emotional person, and it’s not because I’m stony or numb—it’s because I’m intelligent. Having the capacity to comprehend things all but prohibits the perplexity that prompts distress and devastation. While I’m on the subject of rocky relationships and fractured friendships, shout-out to Tall Guy and Mr. Organik, who are two YouTubers and apparently former friends that I’m certain have been tapped in here at beauamourex.com for some time now. Y’all niggas ain’t never getting those domains, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll ever need them! Nah, I hope y’all work that shit out, for real. Jarvis, grow the fuck up, sir. I once randomly tweeted “niggas act like maturity is life-threatening,” in response to something trending that some silly-ass nigga did. And I initially made that statement to suggest that niggas avoid maturity like it’s unhealthy. But not one second after I tapped “Post,” I realized that being a nigga in itself is deliberately life-threatening—mortality is a nigga’s motivation for not giving a fuck. And that’s super-duper sad, ain’t it? Again, that’s why I don’t fuck with humans. To all the niggas out there “getting to the bag” and criticizing me for not caring about the shit that matters to you, let me be the millionth person to tell you that you don’t have the fucking answers! One nigga’s money ain’t gon’ solve every nigga’s problems, and every nigga don’t care about other niggas’ money. The majority of y’all motherfuckers aren’t smart, you’re just following established methods of success and capitalizing on the success of others. I’m not saying that’s stupid, I’m just saying that emulating doesn’t make you a genius. Do you know what separates the men from the boys? It’s big balls! Now, when someone implies that a motherfucker has “balls,” are they generally referring to a motherfucker who does what’s anticipated or plays it safe? Ask yourselves, have you ever come across another motherfucker like me? And if I weren’t “him,” would my decisions even matter to you? That’s just food for thought—chow down. Peace.