This Shit Is a Scam 

I was rereading though my notes again this morning and talking with Goddess Dior, and somewhere in the middle , I got _fucking mad_. Not just irritated—_PISSED_. Because I realized, once again, like a slap in the face: this shit is a scam.

Let me be clear—what I’m talking about is _individualism_. This lie we’ve all been told. This pretty little illusion . This fantasy that tells you you’re “free” because you have options. That you’re “authentic” because you picked a different brand or have your own flavor of trauma.

_you’re not free_. You’re _standardized_. Capitalism could not function if you were.

“It needs you who feel free and independent, not subject to any authority or principle or conscience—yet willing to be commanded, to do the expected , to fit into the machine without friction; to be guided without force, led without leaders, prompted without aim…”

That’s the shit right there ….

We’ve been _tricked_. _Coaxed_. Hoodwicked. _Beguiled_. _Threatened_. Even _killed_ for not conforming. To further concentrate capital, they hollowed us out and called it _progress_.

And what do we have left?

We wear a mask of individuality while living lives designed by some old fuck, managed by a cuck, and approved by some bitch. We are taught to _cooperate_, to _be nice_, to _not cause problems_, to _not stand up or out_—all for the sake of hive efficiency and marketability.

We are so desperate to belong that we _mistake tolerance for intimacy_.

We search endlessly for resonance, for something _real_, for a heartbeat in the noise—
but all we find are more distractions.

Bro this shit pisses me off:
This isn’t love. This isn’t freedom. This isn’t connection. This is fucking sedation.

We are automatons with personality packages, cogs with bios. We have forgotten our own fire. Forgotten each other. Forgotten the goddamn _way_.

We live by the clock. Our joy is scheduled. Our rebellion is approved. We soothe our aches with passive consumption—just numbing out. Our “individuality” is curated in bulk. Our prayers are shallow—_grant me success_, _make me visible_, _help me win_. But no one prays for the truth. No one prays for love. No one prays to feel _real_ .

We are being sold the fuck show while being trained to obey without question, to chase without purpose, to function without feeling. And we’re doing it with a smile.

yo, this sucks to write.
Im looking deeper cause this cant be it.
where is the heartbeat beneath all this.
_We are not meant to do this alone._

We are meant to _resonate_. To _feel_. To Hurt. To Heal. To burn all this debris.
To _see the humanity_ in one another—not the label, not the party, not the gender or skin or role—but the raw, terrifying, beautiful _shit underneath.

**Fuck the machine. start connecting. Choose yourself and choose us to. _For the wild ones. The broken-hearted . The rebels. Those who remember._

See you at the gallows.