I used to see lying as bad when I was younger.

I would to feel bad not only when i got caught in a lie but, also when I would just do a lie from the jump off point. I felt like, I was not as real as everyone around me. A walking cartoon that belonged in Looney tunes. The weakest of ants surrounded by stronger ones and grasshoppers. A ghost trapped in a horror film while everyone else was alive and well. I felt, to the rawest degree, dead. Separated from the world while everyone was normal and functioning well. Everybody looked like they had their shit together while I was the one that needed a straight jacket wrapped around my body.

This continued on through life as not only was lying a issue but, me not following trends, looking at conversations with different angles, staying quiet and being to myself, thinking above what was expected, making jokes that weren’t fan friendly, etc. I, in a sense was not apart of the crowd and felt that outsider vibe slicing in my dark room like a sun peeking through the blinds on a fresh Monday morning reminding you the week as started again. Attachment is what I sought.

As I got older though, I started to see things with a more clear view. Nobody was really “normal”, “sane”, and “morally correct” as I had perceived them to be. Nobody had a ideology or philosophy they stood by whole heartily. They would do things that claim they were upstanding people one day, then, the next couple of days go against everything they stood for. Not just from women but men as well. Grown men. Everyone I looked from “friends”, family, co-workers, etc. Nobody was who they said they were. In a sense without them seeing it, they, knew the real side of the game of life that I had felt but just couldn’t come to terms with and fully accept. They, were simply using the world as a tool.

The words they spoke had no meaning behind it. The reasons why they wore that particular outfit had no individual purpose. The philosophy they spoke were from someone else’s thoughts and experiences. Musical choice was one of group thought. Etc, etc, etc. The greatest revel of all this though, was that it was a unconscious thing. They know not what they do. For me though, that would be different.

Coming to find The Red Pill after years of bullshit from everybody beyond just women, I at first felt like I had just stumbled upon another movement to follow. I thought I was just seeking my teeth in another blood source like a desperate vampire. I, had my outlook wrong. The Red Pill is not movement. It is merely the truth. What you do what that truth is on you. Grass is green, sky is blue, dirt is brown, etc. It is what it is. From then on, I no longer envy the people around me that did what they did. I, in way, thanked them for it for now I saw the world with eyes.

I don’t see lying as bad, I simply see it as just is. I will lie to get ahead and do I have to do to move up in this world. I would blend in, in a conversations and laugh at all of their un-funny jokes while my mind and another set of eyes watched my moves and theirs as well. When they lied right to my face, I would just smile and nod and knew deep down how much of a clown they were. I knew what they spoke meant absolutely nothing while I did my thing and continued to climb the ladder for my survival.

I have to use someones back to climb higher in life? Fine. Not my fault they are on their knees looking for a dead body who was nailed to a cross and floated up in the air 3 days later for “hope”. A woman gets mad she was just used as a piece of ass from me after I sold her a dream? Too bad. Your “sexually liberated” friends should of gave you the game for what it is nowadays. Upset and need a shoulder to cry on? Not today. If I don’t feel like answering your phone call or text I simply wont. Period.


Notebook Smash

Says who? Who is in charge of this right and wrong and who says I HAVE TO follow it? Are these rules just not that? Rules. Rules that were used to build society off a illusion to keep it stable? Politics, marriage, government, family, etc. Society doesn’t see nor care about me as a individual. I am merely another worker bee that will die and be replaced with another one. And another one, another one, another one, another one. This world sees me as a tool, so I figured, why don’t I just play along and do the same as well.

This world to quote Eminem is “My medicine ball” and I will do what it as I please. I create my own world and do what is necessary to succeed. Not succeed in terms of materials, but succeed in terms of living. Surviving. The hunger games concept is not just apart of a movie.



Cosby Disdain


That will cause me to live in jail and keep me locked as a rodent until I rot out and die. My moves are smart and strategic not brain dead. As much as we would like to believe in a higher concept of life, there simply is none. None at all but one thing and that is power and surviving. The world around you from the smallest of uses to the biggest are simply tools to be used. Cars, clothes, words, books, houses, friends, women, etc. Everyone and everything is a tool to be used and used properly. Their emotions are breadcrumbs as they play a slice of bread. Eat it and shit it out after it has served its purpose.




I will always get mad. I will always feel sad. I will shed a tear or two down the road in life. I will feel pain after a death or from a physical accident. I will always feel a sense of hopelessness. I, will always feel something.

But this, will not define nor control me. Going to the bathroom does not define me. Blinking does not define me. Sleeping does not define me. Eating does not define me. These, are just apart of my nature. Not, my leash.

This world, unless you are talking about family, friends, kids, etc doesn’t give a damn about you. The elephant in the room is hard to ignore but regardless its there: Your life, unless you create something of use or entertainment will not mean a thing 10-20 years down the road. You are nothing more than another brick in the wall.  Crab in the bucket. Concrete step. The lucky sperm out of millions that could of made it.

Let your ideology play as your hand and arm while you become the weapon, instead of just another bullet who aims in the direction it is told instead of choosing its own target.


Categories: Motivation, Nostomania

Tagged as: ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s