Here’s what they won’t tell you.

“My life got better once I got my shit together.” No, your life got better when you gave it up.

They’ll preach hard work equals success. Everything works out in the end. As long as you plug away you’ll eventually make it. They never talk about failure. The day after everything is gone. In the absence of God, we’ll discuss what’s left.

It’s their fault that wide-eyed optimism is such a fucking trend. When they talk about this they speak from a place of security, they exaggerate their struggles to seem compelling. Always with bullshit like.

Don’t give up.

Hard work pays off.

Go through the youtube comments of your favorite authors/musician/artists and see shit like this.

“I’ve been writing a novel for a year now. I know I’ll make it because I write every day.”

“Hey ya’ll It’s ya boy….I’m a dreamer and people say I can’t do it. I know I can.”

I’m a lyrical, spiritual, miracle. A poet who ain’t cynical. Cause this world is mine. Money and ho’s. Ice as cold as my flo.
I ain’t got nuttin right now but gonna get mo’

“Please check out my art! I’m an aspiring artist who hopes to work for Pixar someday!”

These people will get props from the other untalented masses who assume karma is real and can be accrued from the click of a mouse. Their creations aren’t meant to last. They are a passing trend at best and fodder more times than not.

The successful, the striving, the greats.
They never speak about failure.

I’m here explaining why you should accept failure before pursuing success.
I want you all to think of failure. Really consider it. Consider a life wasted. The sad existence. Working some day job into your forties. Stacks of rejection letters or demos that never took off. The fruits of your labor rotting, all that time all that passion. Nothing to show for it.

Are you still there? Good! Let’s continue.

The Reality. There is a huge chance you’re gonna fail. The chances of failure are astronomical. I’m not talking about being a millionaire or having some mansion in the hills. I mean just making a living off of it. Paying your bills with it. Teaching doesn’t count either. I’ve met enough bitter pretentious professors to know that begging on a street corner is better than a job. They despise talent because often they have none. Any man can learn to write or play a piano. It takes guts and a bit of insanity to create your own shit. Often the less you know about it the better you’ll be. Self-education keeps originality alive. Paraphrased bile from the long-dead greats is all too common.
Their idea of success is a decent salary, doing a shadow of what they intended. All teachers (especially in the arts) are bitter. Their students eventually covet the salary and the status.

Day jobs will come and go. For the real ones, you’ll never last somewhere very long. They’ll find a reason to get rid of you. Beating the fuck out of a supervisor is a nice little mix-up. I’ve done it at least three times. It’s about to be four as soon as I can find that fuck with the underbite on the street.
After a certain age people will shun you. Believe me, they will. See their minds don’t work as ours do. They cling to mediocrity like a junkie to a needle. It often has to do with a significant other. Pussy on tap is way easier than having to look. Paying rent is their excuse for turning passion into a hobby. This is the danger we all face. Enough nights on a couch or the park will start to take their toll. Chants of “Get your shit together.” Will wear you down. Stay with it. Remember quitting makes all this struggle for nothing.

“My life got better once I got my shit together.”

No, your life got better when you gave it up. This world rewards the meek and the sheep. Choose to be a thing rather than a being. You’ll thank me later.
Death should be a release or a victory. Never just something to do.

Here’s the good news.

You’ll learn more about yourself and the world here than any religion could ever hope to give you. It’s a cycle of death and life that would make Crowley tip his hat. The religions of the world speak about life after death. But we’ll die a thousand times in this life to make sure we’ve lived it well. Should victory come great. Should we fall, well soldiers fall in their endeavors. They get parades. There aren’t any parades for us. No flags. No children in uniforms shooting into the sky. No cheering crowds. Only an idea that failure didn’t matter. We were wired differently. We lived as we should. God made the Devil and he made us. Not in his image. In his shadows image. A beautiful mistake, who would rather be a thorn in the side of the world than ever part of it. We won’t die bitter, but proud. Proud we said fuck you to everyone else. We’ll be an example to their children of what not to be. Knowing a truth that they’ll never understand.