I was broke. Starving. Driving my busted Volkswagen Golf to KFC, waiting for people to leave behind perfectly good chicken so me and Andrew could survive. That was life at 21. But I refused to lose. I refused to let hunger stop me from winning my fights, from making it out. Fast forward—now it’s my birthday, and we’re eating KFC as a joke. The struggle turned into triumph. 

Most men waste time crying over a breakup, scrolling social media, making excuses. Weak. If you’re not using pain as fuel, you’re failing. The world is ultra-competitive—every dollar, every woman, every bit of respect is a fight. You don’t get ahead by sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. You get ahead by taking full accountability, grinding relentlessly, and becoming the best version of yourself.  

You either take control of your life—or life controls you. Simple.

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