Happy belated New Year you delightful fucks. How are you all doing?

You motivated to succeed until February pulls up on yo ass like an undercover cop car? You heartbroken again due to beautiful belligerent bitches? You making a lot of money at the expense of your humanity?

Whatever it may be, I understand ya.

The New Year is always an exciting time for many.

It’s all glammer and it feels like you just escaped the slammer of Previous Year.

You’re a free man/woman/toad.

There’s no calendar days attached to trauma and depression! You can start FRESH! Although the lingering rectal sting sensation from previous life fuck ups remains forever, the optimism is plentiful.

This isn’t a depressing post. It’s a motivate-you-to-rawdog-every-year-until-you-die post.

New Year is just a psyop. Time is possibly not even a real thing. But humans are symbolic and the idea of new™ lets us cope and ignore our blatant PTSD from living in the lamest era of humanity.

So my point is this:

Let’s go get this fucking bread

Let’s continue to do silly shit

Let’s lift weights and not get heart attacks like certain people randomly do now

Let’s just have fun because we all will die soon enough

To all the homies that remained in my life trying to make it, big love.

To all my sexy weirdo ladies, padre loves you too and I know you’re just confused. It’s never personal.

2023 is here and we STILL won’t rest and FOREVER will not sleep.