Fuckism: Death Ain’t the End—It’s the Beginning, Bitch
Death isn’t the end.
It’s the f*cking door.
The death of your fat-ass comfort zone.
The death of your self-loathing inner monologue.
The death of the weak, petty, ego-driven version of you that’s been holding you hostage.
Real change?
It’s a murder scene.
You don’t evolve—you kill what no longer serves.
Hand yourself the shovel.
Toss in a body bag.
Sprinkle the lime.
Clean the mess. Burn the tape.
Because your new life doesn’t start with motivation.
It starts with murdering the motherf*cker you’ve been pretending to be.
