Stop Being A Fucking Loser

This is your wake-up call, scrub. It’s time to get your shit together and stop being such a pathetic waste of life.

No, this isn’t tough love, it’s just the truth. Your mom is disappointed in you, your brother is confused by what an asshole you are, and it’s so bad that, at this point, your dad honestly wishes you were the mailman’s kid.

But hold on there, skip. Before you decide to do the deed and put yourself out of everyone else’s misery, let me tell you about my life, it’s peaks, and its valleys.

Let’s Travel Back To 2011

Back then this blog, the original Alpha Persona, was just getting off of the ground, and I was an avid reader. I decided I was going to get my life together (being as I was a college drop out), and start being the person I wanted to be.

I opened up my own pharmaceutical business to help bolster my finances while I built up a client base freelancing. Eventually I was able to leave my position as a pharmaceutical sales representative to be a full-time freelancer, which had a booming economy at the time.

I eventually got a steady girlfriend, had a nice place to live, and things were going well.

The self help water started to turn sour as many of the blogs that got me to where I was began to shut down (including this one). The ones that were left shifted their focus (like Cernovich) or cucked it up and became useless fags that blended in with the world.

It was a kinder and gentler “manosphere”, and it failed me. I’m glad it’s largely been destroyed.

Fast Forward to 2015

That girlfriend? She left me. That nice apartment? I couldn’t afford it on my own. Those freelancing gigs? The gig economy dried up for Americans when Indians figured out Fiverr and oDesk.

Suddenly I had to work harder and charge less money, and now I wasn’t living the “location independent” lifestyle that I had been sold on just a few years prior.

I dropped out. I decided that life was tough and the best way through it was barely. I medicated with marijuanna and got a shitty job at a Burger King in what is possibly the most ghetto corner of The Windy City.

I was constantly ridiculed by my coworkers, shit on by management, and yelled at by customers. There was a whole year and a half of spending half of my pay check on my low rent apartment, and the other half on weed so I could forget my life.

I grew a grungy beard, stopped working out, smoked pot, and beat off to porn when the pot money ran out. It was a shitty existence.

The Reality Check

It was about 18 months of this when I was walking through the grocery store on my way to work, grabbing an energy drink to offset the sluggishness, and I bumped into my ex.

She saw me first. “John?” She asked.

I looked up and saw her. She was like the angel of self checkout. Radiant smile, tumbling blonde curls framing her high cheekbones and accenting her ice blue eyes.

“H… hey.” I was nervous. She was in a floral sundress and I was in a dirty, not washed in a week, Burger King uniform. I hadn’t bathed or brushed my teeth, I had honestly just gotten out of bed about 30 minutes prior.

She, meanwhile, looked as if she was planning on shaming me today with how well she was doing.

“Hey, I’m Chad Newguy.” A man said. I looked next to my ex and saw a tall, clean shaven hulk in a red polo and khaki pants. I timidly shook his hand and smiled.

“Hey.” I said.

“Listen, John, we have to get going, but it was good to see you.” She said. He smiled and nodded at me, as guys do, put his hand around her hips and they turned to walk away.

I was honestly stunned by the whole experience and was still just standing there when I heard him say, “Jesus Christ, you used to date that guy?”

She giggled and said, “It was a long time ago.”

I remember thinking to myself, It’s been just over a year… that isn’t too long, is it?

The change

That was when I knew I needed to change things. I’d love to tell you that I marched into that Burger King, flipped off my boss, and dropped a fry basket full of ice into the fryer on my way out, but I didn’t.

I went to work and spent the whole day taking every slight, every customer insult, every management barb personally. I let that shit dig into my soul. I let the world drive me to the brink of despair. To that dark place of the soul where you just want to die and get it over with.

I skipped the bus and walked the whole way home at 2 am, half hoping to die, half planning my resurrection.

Small Changes Make The Difference

As soon as I got home I flushed all of my pot down the toilet, broke my bong, and tossed all of my paraphernalia.

I booted up my laptop, made sure I had backups of every ebook I’d purchased, and then cancelled my internet.

I took a cold shower, shaved my nasty beard, and walked my clothes to the laundromat for a clean.

I would spend the next 8 months paring down my life to the bare minimums. Hunger would become a close friend and I would learn to enjoy the pain in my stomach.

I showered and shaved every day, ironed my Burger King polo before work, visited a barber every 14 days, and joined the free gym at a local community health center.

My closest friends were junkies, so I cut them off. I went so far as to change my phone number so they couldn’t contact me, and I wouldn’t answer the door when they’d knock.

My new friends were books, and I spent time patching things up with my family.

I used my shitty $8 an hour to pay off debt and save up as much as I could. Instead of spending my free time smoking weed and beating off, I spent it applying to jobs that I actually wanted.

I made a handsome, professional resume that was full to the brim with everything my dream employer wanted to see (most of it lies). I turned periods of unemployment into successful entrepreneurship and noted that I currently managed a bespoke burger restaurant in the heart of the city.

I had gotten fed up with how poorly my life was going, and seeing Elle was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I decided to change it.

Don’t get the wrong idea

I don’t want you lie on your resume thinking it will get you a better job, because it probably won’t. Instead, I want you to be willing to do what it takes to change your fucking life – even if that means lying on a resume.

I want you to get so fed up with what isn’t working for you right now that you’re willing to do something stupid and radical to get things going the right way.

Once you’re ready to burn down the bad bridges in your life and build new roads with your bare hands, then you’re ready to read this blog.

But before you can, you’ve got to get angry. You’ve got to be willing to put in the hard work, and submit to your new master: The Grind. Because if you aren’t willing to do that, no amount of words I type out here will help you.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *