to say you are the dirt beneath my feet implies that you have substance. that you occupy any space whatsoever in any sort of a meaningful way. here’s the thing, buster. i can see the fear in your eyes and your little body twitches and the way you whine when anything doesn’t go your way, and i know i’m better than you. i know that i know more than you do, that i can manage myself better than you can. have you ever heard of self 1 and self 2? well both of yours are stupid little children. the kind that go to school just to get the free glue. see, i get just as upset as you do, but i don’t cry and complain about everything, i just practice, and i study, and i listen, and i get better. because i can put something else above myself, i can separate myself from that stuff i feel in the moment, and i can prioritize. you’re a punk, and on some level, even though i bet you’re afraid to admit it, you know it. i admitted to myself that i was a punk years ago. that’s the first step to moving on from being a punk, hence why you’re still so immature for your age!
listen, pal. your ego needs a firm talking-to. the part that pisses me off about you the most is that you’ve got genuine potential. but you just don’t know how to do anything with it because everything’s been handed to you on a silver platter your whole life. you slack off, you get what you want, and you never learned that crucial next step of truly accepting failure. coming back week after week isn’t acceptance if you always have a reason in your head why you lost, believing it was just an “off-day” for you. and saying the same things as everyone else about how “they deserved the win” doesn’t mean you really believe them inside (trust me, i know.)
even if i renounced all my earthly possessions, i would still own you. you couldn’t beat my dad if he forgot to show up for the match. i invented the techniques you repeatedly fail to execute. i built a house for you to live in and you couldn’t figure out how to put an address into a GPS. i clean out my dryer’s lint-trap and see shit more threatening than you.
i look into your eyes and you say “uncle” before i even ask a question. people go silent when i walk into a room just in case i have anything to say. i think i saw you on a made-for-TV documentary about LOSERS. if i were you, i’d hang up the sticks for a while and go cry. crying is good for you. it releases helpful endorphins. there’s no shame in it. and maybe it’ll help you see what a pathetic wimp you are and push you to finally accept it and make a change.
do you know how much crazy shit i’ve done to try to get better? when’s the last time you got down on your knees and prayed to a God you don’t believe in? countless hours with specialists, coaches, analysts of all kinds, just asking them what the hell i can try to do, screaming for any chance at improvement. it’s a lifestyle, bucko. it’s pretty fun to see results. have you ever noticed that working hard feels good? probably not. you’re too focused on the results and you give the process maybe 15% of the attention. well there’s your problem. give the process 100% of your attention and just forget about results. easier said than done, right? sure as hell wasn't fast for me, but it still might be the only chance you’ve got. get off twitter and try to build that attention span so you can read a book for once.
look, i believe in you, i really, truly do. i want to help you. but you’ve got to get your head on just a little straighter before i can put as much effort into your future as i’d love to. you can’t keep coming to me and wasting my time with all your complaints about extraneous shit instead of taking accountability. haven’t you ever heard of “no johns”? maybe you could look it up on wiktionary. and no, saying “i’m open to feedback” is not the same as listening when people actually give it to you instead of just waiting for your turn to talk.
i’m gonna go to sleep now. have fun watching youtube videos and let me know if you ever experience internality.