University Dropout

 school was ruining my mental health.

i was in a phase where i hated myself, couldn’t stand to look myself in the mirror.

until i said fuck it and dropped the fuck out.


the shame didn’t just touch my family name — it wrapped around it.

whispers, advice, guilt dressed up as concern.

everyone urging me to “just finish” like i was one lap from freedom.

last year, seven credits left, the finish line in sight —

but every step felt like quicksand.

i didn’t need another lap.

i needed out.


and still —

i caught everyone telling me to go back,

until i realized everything was a projection.

their fear. their unfulfilled dreams. their guilt.

all of it disguised as “advice.”

none of it had anything to do with me.


i stood 10 toes on my decision,

and the rest is history.


because no one tells you this part:

leaving isn’t always weakness — sometimes it’s survival.

sometimes it’s the first time you stop living on autopilot

and start living on instinct.

i dropped out of the box they built for me,

not out of laziness, but out of clarity.

i refused to die in a system that wasn’t built for my soul.


at first, it was lonely.

whispers. family questions.

“what will he do now?”

“he threw it all away.”

but they didn’t see what i saw.

they didn’t feel what i felt.

school had become a coffin for my creativity.

a treadmill of tasks that killed my spirit.


dropping out didn’t break me —

it broke the illusion.

it taught me how to trust myself louder

than the noise around me.

it forced me to build a backbone

stronger than any diploma.

and while they laughed, doubted,

whispered my name in pity,

i learned how to move in silence.

i built muscle in my mind

no classroom could give me.


now i see it for what it was:

their fear projected onto my path.

their blueprint isn’t mine.

and my blueprint?

it’s rare.

it’s mine.


i didn’t just drop out of school —

i dropped out of the idea that my worth

was tied to their validation.

and that’s when everything started.

the vision. the vow. the fire.

it wasn’t an ending.

it was my first real beginning. 


- Mr. Makaveli 



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