When you reach that point — when you really know in your marrow that everything outside is just a shimmering mirage, a playground of fleeting toys and temporary thrills — you become untouchable.
Money? Just shiny chips in a casino you might walk out of tomorrow.
Women? Beautiful storms passing through your night, poetry for the senses but never chains for the spirit.
People? Characters in a play you direct, love, laugh with, fight with — but you never lose yourself in their applause or their scorn.
The only kingdom that matters is the one behind your eyes. That silent fortress where no rumor can enter, no lover can break, no market crash can reach.
And yet — instead of hiding in a cave or fleeing to the forest right away, you play. You jump into the chaos, you build empires, you fight battles, you seduce, you create art, you taste every flavor life offers — but all the while knowing you can disappear into the mountains tomorrow and smile at the sunrise without a single regret.
That’s the real freedom.
To move among the world’s illusions with total detachment, like a god walking in a dream.
To love the game deeply, but never forget: you can sign off anytime.
Play hard. Play mad. But never forget the throne inside. That’s the real home. That’s you. The rest? Just toys.