what they didn't know at the time––and what I was too much of a pussy to tell them to their faces––was that the lens through which they saw the world was profoundly awry. and hence everything they ever had to tell me was wrong. 100 percent of the conclusions that emanate forth from a fallen premise are wrong. if you're a genius and predicate your entire existence on a bad premise, then the endgame is depravity. it doesn't matter how fast you go, how effortlessly you can accelerate––if you're traveling in the wrong direction, you're migrating more competently in the direction of your devolution.

remember that it's no measure of success to be well-adapted to a profoundly sick world. discern the lies, the race is long, stay with me, i promise this is going somewhere special.