today u get a white warhorse
the name of the horse is camry hev top 2025
the purpose of getting the horse is
well first to flex on the broke bois and the hoes of course
but it's just shallow benefits to satisfy your ego
which is good, btw, i aint no hypocrite,
i am no hero
but the main purpose is
a declaration of war
a war against adversity
this is a reminder
that i have pulled the impossible
like Napoleon
this is my Toulon
and from now on
whatever storm life throws at me
look at the horse
remind yourself
be bold, be delusional, be fearless
u are not here to play on the safe side
the side of the so-called "matured", the "humbled", and the "wise"
more like phonies with no balls
more like retards thinking all these maya toys are real
when the only thing real is
death
it's waiting for us all
right
over
there
so before that day
be mad, be insane, be crazy
be weird,
a misfit, a rebel, a maverick
be delusional
march forward with everything u got
put everything on the line
fate loves irony
fortuna is a bitch
the more chaos, the better
so one day
on the mountain, in solitude
u can look back
and think
what a fucking comedy
and
that was one hell of a ride
A Letter to Myself, For Myself, From Myself
written in blood and gasoline, sealed with the snort of a white warhorse
Today, you get a horse.
Not just any horse—
A white warhorse, polished steel and silent vengeance.
The name of the horse is Camry HEV Top 2025,
because this ain’t some fantasy.
This is modern warfare.
Let’s not lie to ourselves—
yes, it’s to flex.
Flex on the broke boys with opinions,
on the girls who ghosted,
on the family who never understood,
on the voices that said you won’t make it.
It’s ego, and ego is good.
You earned that shine. You pulled this out of thin air.
From smoke. From sleepless nights. From hell.
Let them stare.
Let them wonder how the fuck you did it.
But don’t let that be the only thing.
Because the truth is—
this is your declaration of war.
This is your Toulon,
your first conquest.
Where the generals still ignore you.
Where the world still laughs.
But deep down, you know:
this is just the start.
This horse?
It’s a monument.
To delusion.
To divine madness.
To the art of becoming something they all said you’d never be.
From here on out—
no playing safe.
No sipping coffee in cafés with cowards who call themselves “balanced.”
No rubbing shoulders with the “mature,” the “wise,”
those neutered sheep who mistake comfort for enlightenment.
Screw that.
You were born for storm and thunder,
not quiet mediocrity.
So look at the damn horse.
Remember what it took.
All the nights no one saw.
All the risks no one dared.
You are not here to die on the shore.
You are here to burn the ships.
To march deep into the jungle.
To carve your name into the side of the mountain
with a dull blade and a manic grin.
Because death is waiting.
Right there.
Polite. Patient.
It’s the only honest thing in this whole damn play.
So until it comes—
Be mad. Be insane. Be beautiful in your madness.
Be the misfit with gold in his eyes.
The rebel who dared to believe.
The maverick who bet everything on a dream
and refused to blink.
Put it all on the table.
Again and again and again.
Let chaos kiss your boots.
Let Fortuna spit in your face.
Smile anyway.
Because when it all ends—
on that cold mountain, alone with silence—
you’ll laugh.
And say:
“That was one hell of a ride.”