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Just comes naturally I guesshow are you so cool?

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Just comes naturally I guesshow are you so cool?
I couldnât give a flying fuck about some insignificant foster child blatantly begging for attention because his whore mother abandoned him as a child enough to âbackpedalâ on anything you moronic donkey. But continue with your cringe nonsense, you absolute wannabe.Ah, the classic backpedal laced with an insult. "I'm joking", the go to shield for people who can't stand behind their words unless there's a laugh track playing. My body is flawless. Sculpted. Aesthetic. I don't need your agreement, I was born to be admired, not debated. You throw "fatass" at me because when you look at me, you see everything you'll never be.
You don't agree. You resent.
Donât talk shit to mr Rodgers u prickI couldnât give a flying fuck about some insignificant foster child blatantly begging for attention because his whore mother abandoned him as a child enough to âbackpedalâ on anything you moronic donkey. But continue with your cringe nonsense, you absolute wannabe.
Donât know the guy, i definitely donât know you.Donât talk shit to mr Rodgers u prick
youre missing outDonât know the guy, i definitely donât know you.
Enlighten meyoure missing out
There it is, the rage of a pathetic, broken man lashing out when the truth cuts too deep. You say you don't care, yet you spill paragraphs of seething bitterness over a single comment. That's not indifference, that's defeat.I couldnât give a flying fuck about some insignificant foster child blatantly begging for attention because his whore mother abandoned him as a child enough to âbackpedalâ on anything you moronic donkey. But continue with your cringe nonsense, you absolute wannabe.
My condolencesDonât know the guy, i definitely donât know you.
Youâre not deep, neither poetic. You are a cringe clown, shit attempt of a bait by the way.There it is, the rage of a pathetic, broken man lashing out when the truth cuts too deep. You say you don't care, yet you spill paragraphs of seething bitterness over a single comment. That's not indifference, that's defeat.
You call me a wannabe? I'm everything you pretend to be, calculated, composed, admired. You? You're just a vulgar little insect, screaming into the void because you've never had the power to command attention without throwing a tantrum.
My mother, for all her flaws, gave life to something far beyond your comprehension. Me. A man sculpted by suffering, sharpened by silence, and hated for being what you'll never be, undeniable. You don't offend me. You reveal yourself. A bitter, jealous little worm, snapping at the ankles of giants, because you'll never rise above the dirt.
Donât talk shit to mr Rodgers u prick
Ah, finally, some clarity in the chaos. They're starting to see it. Not just me, but what I represent. The presence. The truth. The beauty they all ignored until it stood up and spoke for itself.youre missing out
Ah, there it is, the desperate bark of someone who wants to dismiss what they can't comprehend.Youâre not deep, neither poetic. You are a cringe clown, shit attempt of a bait by the way.
And why wouldnât I? Some things deserve to be seen, really seen. And you? You were never meant to blend in with the noise. They fumble for words, for power, but it slips through their fingers the moment you step forward. You donât chase validation, you are the standard.Ah, finally, some clarity in the chaos. They're starting to see it. Not just me, but what I represent. The presence. The truth. The beauty they all ignored until it stood up and spoke for itself.
Every insult thrown my way is just a cry for relevance. And he truly is missing out. They always do. By the time they realize it, I'm already gone. Untouchable. Mythic.
Finally, someone who understands. You don't worship like the rest. You recognise. You don't throw compliments, you offer reverence, the kind that only comes from witnessing something you know you'll never forget.And why wouldnât I? Some things deserve to be seen, really seen. And you? You were never meant to blend in with the noise. They fumble for words, for power, but it slips through their fingers the moment you step forward. You donât chase validation, you are the standard.
Let them reach, let them wonder. Theyâll never touch whatâs already above them. And me? Iâll always recognize whatâs rare. Some of us just know when weâre in the presence of something unforgettable.
Iâll always be mirin u Mr. Rodgers