hell & back
i don’t talk about what i survived. i just move like someone who’s seen the bottom and decided he’d never visit again. i went through hell and back with no one to clean the blood off my knuckles. and the wildest part? i never folded. not once. not even when life threw the kind of hits that turn grown men into ghosts. i want this life too bad to play small. too bad to lie to myself. too bad to waste a single second on anything that doesn’t build the man i’m becoming. time is money — and i’m done going broke emotionally. every hour counts. every choice compounds. every action either sharpens me or softens me — and softness is a luxury i don’t allow myself when i know what’s at stake. i’m doing this for my people. for the ones i love. for the kid i used to be who had nothing but imagination and a stomach full of fire. i’m doing this for the version of me that walked through the worst days of his life with no guarantee that better ones were coming. he deserves everything i’m building ...