People wonder why I am the way I am. Why I don’t care what the crowd thinks. Why I can walk away from jobs, chaos, even comfort — like it’s just background noise. Why I don’t flinch when shit falls apart. The answer? It didn’t just happen. It’s a slow burn. A hundred moments where you see people for what they are — useful while you’re useful, loyal until you’re not. Over time, you stop chasing the crowd. You stop bleeding for people who’d let you die on the floor. You build quiet exits. You keep receipts. You learn how to leave. And yeah, I know I come off weird — I laugh too loud, crack jokes that would make HR cry, and carry a sense of humor that’s definitely not made for polite company. But underneath all that is a storm. A darkness I wrestle daily. A fire I fight with whatever scraps of peace I can find. Don’t mistake the cheer for naivety. Don’t mistake the grin for weakness. I’ve earned the right to not care. I’ve earned the right to protect my peace. These days, I invest ...