Oh look at you! You made it to Friday! Wow you worked so hard. You absolutely deserve to treat yourself.

Or maybe not. Maybe you're the type that thrives with tough love.

Perhaps you don't mind that toxic sort of supportive enforcement. Perhaps your baseline is kind and relaxed and understanding, so you need that little nudge of fear to push you over the line.

Or perhaps you're just into being whipped emotionally. It’s what turns you on. It's what opens the valve of desire and drive to impress.

Well, if it is, it’s your lucky day. Momma’s brought her whip.

• Fuck your self-care.
• Therapy is for pussies.

If tough love isn't your thing, don't be offended, just go back to patting yourself on the back. Why not massage yourself while you're at it, jerk off your flaccid mind.

Giddy up, young cobras.

ヽ(￣ω￣(。。 )ゝ

– ƴΐ⍧ի⍲e⌊ ⅋ yӭ𐦤⚇⍕⍑

⛓ discord twitter email nudes ⛓

Fuck your self-care

A well-intentioned pep speech

Everyone’s got their own little self-care needs in today’s late-stage post-postmodern free-market society. Life’s tough, you know, so you need a little downtime.

All these emails and messages and events and calls, all the missed opportunities and sunk costs, growth grindset and yolos, all these happy people and beautiful memories, great content and great causes. You need a little downtime in goblin mode to rest and relax and recover, to seize the day, live the life, see the world.

Everybody’s soul is hurting with some pain and fear and trauma and grief, for some shit that they inherited from their families, or for some other shit they endured from the world. Everybody is busy sharing mental health memes, throwing warm bowl of empty words of care like "you are enough" down a deep, dark flat screen of digital connection.

You can’t even criticize this whiney little self-care bullshit these days.

Who are you to tell me what to do? Tell me what I like, how I like it, and why I like it? You don't know my life, what I've been through. If you've seen what I seen, you won't be wagging your fat fingers at the garbage on my TV and greasy chips on my couch. I deserve all this vice and none of your shit.

You don’t fucking need self-care.

I’m not telling you. I’m just echoing what that little voice inside your head that you’ve duct-taped up and locked it up somewhere so long ago that you don’t even believe it’s real.

You can do it.

You can keep getting after it.

You can put your mind to turn things into reality. Your body is incredibly adaptable. Especially if your mind is strong and focused.

You may not feel like it, but you are capable of it.

This is about where I start to hear more high-minded whiney bullshit. Oh, but you can’t burn yourself out, or it’s not worth it to lose yourself or your happiness during the process, or you need to optimize the recovery to be able to maximize your productivity.

Fuck that.

Fucking burn it down, burn out, pass out, and stand back the fuck up.

Lose yourself and experience another self. Lick the rock bottom, so you can better taste the future highs. Delay your gratification. Trust the process. Discipline is a decision. Excellence is the capacity for pain.

Optimization is for indecisive fuckers who has to balance priorities. You can fucking maximize your productivity with singular focus. All your other so-called indispensible priorities are totally dispensable. Give up pleasing your family, give up helping your friends, give up your cute little self-care.

Your lazy little mind gets lazier and lazier whenever you feed it with a little reward, completely unearned and undeserving. What did you accomplish to deserve that little dumb TV, stupid feel-good book, unfruitful hangouts with friends, vapid brain-tickling memes?

Fuck you and your well-balanced, work-hard-play-hard, love-yourself, do-what-you-love, everything-works-out, you-are-enough, take-your-time, woe-is-me, bullshit. I don’t wanna hear it.

I just want to see you do what you know you can do, that go-getter, self-starter, trail-blazer, all-or-nothing, go-big-or-go-home, manifest destiny’s child shit.

Therapy is for pussies

If you go to therapy you’re soft as fuck, like nobody ever taught you how to suppress your feelings. The honorable thing to do is deal with it yourself. I was taught from a very young age that my feelings are a burden, but so are everyone’s, and only the weak put that overbearing weight on other people.

From then on I was the coolest kid on the block. The most alpha, never showing any weakness or backing down in the face of a challenge(r). If I felt pain, grief, melancholy, or fear I would immediately beat those feelings down and show the world around me that I am tough. People are the only thing that can lift you up and they won’t bother if they think you’re weak.

When I see a world where therapy is widespread and common, I see a collapsing star, a pliable and nimble ball of dust laying still where a roaring storm of fire once stood. I see cats in the overgrown meadows of a civil war battlefield. Bubbles in a riverbed. Therapy is making people fucking soft.

I beat a war drum to cast negative feelings away. They do not pass through me, they cower in fear at the army of my mind; an army I have trained and drilled carefully; an army that went through war keeping me liberated from the most tactical and vicious emotions. I march the captured emotions through my spine, out my tailbone, into the wind.

Fuck your feelings and your emotions and your soft weak tears. Stomp them out and stand on top of them and put a hard shell around your skin. Become the armadillo of feelings; bury your face in the ground. If I hear one more pussy mouthing off about their therapist, I’m going to plant an ice bomb in the solid iron core of the Earth and watch nature eat itself.

⛓ discord twitter email nudes ⛓

quantized_quotes.txt

You know that Forrest Gump saying, "Life's like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gunna get"? But wouldn't I know that I'll be getting a chocolate? Probably the same one? Over and over again? I mean, just don't buy a life like a medley box of chocolate .

fire_tweets.csv

things that we x'd into the void – meet me there?

sound.wav

We suggest riding a mythical creature while listening to this song.

cool_vid.mp4

Here's your Friday self-care. Goggins your mind.

prompts.bib

1. cover
   /imagine Tough Love:: You don't need self-care --chaos 0.2 --ar 9:16 --v 6.0 (Image #3)
2. it's a wonderful world
   /imaginea psychiatric therapy session taking place in a riverbed of bubbles:: a psychiatrist talking to a client sitting on a lounging chair on top of a bunch of bubbles:: a foamy bubbly riverbed::0.5 --v 6.0 --stylize 250
3. chidhood photo
   /imagine An epic warrior cool kid beating up softies --v 6.0
4. self care
   /imagine self-care routines in a techno-dystopian future:: luxurious cyberpunk bourgeois futurists --chaos 0.2 --ar 1:1 --v 6.0 (Image #3)
5. robotic relaxation
   Google Gemini /imagine a fictional futuristic marketing photo of a cyberpunk luxury self-care
6. mind murk
   /imagine Fuck your well-balanced work-hard-play-hard love-yourself do-what-you-love everything-works-out you-are-enough take-your-time woe-is-me o-pity-upon-me bullshit. I don’t wanna hear it. --v 6.0 (Image #1)
7. joyous shame
   /imagine Fuck your well-balanced work-hard-play-hard love-yourself do-what-you-love everything-works-out you-are-enough take-your-time woe-is-me o-pity-upon-me bullshit. I don’t wanna hear it. --v 6.0 (Image #2)
8. observe the observer
   /imagine I just want to see you do what you know you can do, that go-getter self-starter trail-blazer all-in-or-nothing go-big-or-go-home manifest destiny’s child shit. --v 6.0 (Image #2)