the mirror must be tired of me.
meanwhile she's fatigued by me. hates me too apparently
so i remind her why she keeps me around.
mirror pics work efficiently. why not make her morning?
"you're so lean i'm jealous."
"just diet and cardio… you know."
funny thing is i'm not kidding. she definitely does know.
jaw's chiseled. clean shave.
eyes that hunt for profit in everything.
i change my attention. focus on what i have outside myself.
i look at my cologne collection. i don't have enough. need more.
maybe a vanilla one next… or jazz club?
i look at my bookshelf. think and grow rich.
stares back at me. good book. great read infact.
"weak desire brings weak results, just as a small amount of fire makes a small amount of heat." - personal favourite.
reminds me of the downfall of M….
you know M.
the guy who us self improvement obsessed.
1% daily. dating an alcoholic
while preaching about clean living.
he called me last night. i ended it quick.
told him to text instead. i wasn’t in the mood to talk.
talking about being "finally happy"
with his routine. his job. his girl. his life.
translation. he got comfortable and i knew it would happen.
saw it coming months ago. i can’t save him that’s his sin.
but here's what terrifies me…
i understood what he meant this morning
when i was back in my element.
for three seconds. looking at my reflection.
i wondered what it would feel like to just... stop.
to be satisfied with enough. sleep well fed.
the thought made my stomach turn and my immune system could be a case study for great health.
check my phone. barclays notification.
i knew it was going to be a good morning.
missing a zero. always missing zeros.
that's when the familiar ache started.
not in my stomach this time deeper. in places i can't name.
now i'm starving.
scrolled down to find three texts from her about wanting to
"lick my abs" and two from another
one begging me to reply faster so she can feel like she matters to me.
she doesn't. but her begging seemed familiar.
back when i'd check my account and see four digits.
back when "enough" felt like a luxury i'd never afford.
i'm still starving.
dragged myself to the bathroom thinking about how M sounded on that call. content. full. dead.
his voice had this dead quality to it.
like he'd given up on wanting more.
what success looks like when you stop before you should.
coffee was brewing while i stared at my reflection.
cataloging the differences and the improvements needed.
i'm starving by choice. M got full by accident.
he's got enough money to avoid real hunger.
enough companionship to dodge real silence.
enough progress to relax.
i here pouring it black every morning. bitter. needed.
add what's needed for a healthy man.
hormozi's book sits next to the sofa in my living room.
fell asleep reading it last night.
grabbed it. headed to the garden. let the sun work its magic while i finished it. enjoying this black liquid that keeps me sharp.
this is what i realised watching steam rise from my cup.
satisfaction is just death wearing a comfortable cushion.
and most people are already wearing it.
they're walking around satisfied with "pretty good" jobs
and "decent enough" relationships and
"okay" bank accounts.
they've convinced themselves that wanting more is greedy.
that hunger is unhealthy.
they don't realise they're slowly dying.
every morning i read texts from people who want pieces of
me i'm not selling.
she'll never understand that. lord save her.
every morning i look in the mirror and hunt for gaps.
not because i hate what's there.
because i know what happens when you stop seeing
what's not there yet.
you become M. full enough to lose control.
and here's the thing that keeps me up at night it's so easy to slip.
so easy to wake up one day and
realise you've been coasting for months.
every morning i check the account and catalog what's missing.
every pence matters. it mattered to the kid who slept hungry.
i’m still him. just without the need to.
been starving since i used to sleep with my stomach eating itself.
back when hunger was circumstance instead of choice.
now i choose the emptiness because lean is law.
lean with time. lean with my energy.
lean with who gets close enough to matter.
the physical hunger trained me for this.
taught me that discomfort is just weakness leaving the body.
now the emotional hunger does the same thing.
shower. lotion. apply oils now i'm dressed.
ready to make the world my bitch.
another day of staying empty while everyone
asks me to "eat more" aka my mum.
she doesn't like the veins showing through my skin.
the watch on my wrist doesn't tick loud enough to remind me time moves because quality operates in silence.
but time moves anyway. and i'm not being left behind.
i'm not eating till everything is done.
till the zeros match the vision in my head.
that's the difference between eating and feeding.
one stops when the plate's clean.
the other never stops hunting.
most people eat. they get full. they get comfortable.
they get forgotten.
i feed. i stay sharp. i stay motionated.
enjoy the hunger. it's the only thing that keeps you alive.
enjoy this…
inertia.23, out.