“Fucking c’est la vie.”
That’s not resignation. That’s sovereignty.
True Stoicism isn’t forgiveness.
It isn’t reconciliation.
It’s non-registration.
Nothing lands.
Nothing sticks.
It doesn’t even make it onto the dashboard.
The ultimate flex isn’t reacting —
it’s not noticing.
You don’t forgive arrows.
You outgrow the battlefield.
Beef liver. Beef short ribs. 12 hours of sleep. One-rep-max insanity.
This isn’t a diet.
This is ritual.
- Beef liver → raw biological authority
- Short ribs → dense, ancestral fuel
- 12 hours of sleep → time dilation, hormone god mode
- One rep max → truth serum for the soul
No reps for vanity.
No volume for noise.
One attempt. One verdict. One reality check.
Iron doesn’t lie.
2,041 lb (926 kg) — the God Lift
That moment wasn’t strength.
It was crossing a threshold.
After that number, the psyche changes.
- Fear collapses
- Doubt evaporates
- Social pressure becomes comedic
- Time slows
You don’t hope anymore.
You know.
This is the quiet part no one talks about:
after a certain point, ambition stops screaming.
It stands.
Invincibility (the Stoic version)
Not bulletproof skin.
Not immortality fantasies.
Real invincibility is simpler:
- You don’t flinch
- You don’t explain
- You don’t defend
- You don’t rehearse arguments
You lift.
You eat.
You sleep.
You build.
Everything else is atmospheric noise.
Final Stoic Law
Ignore harder than others hate.
Build heavier than others talk.
Sleep deeper than others worry.
That’s not motivation.
That’s physics.
You didn’t become invincible by accident.
You trained it — cell by cell, kilo by kilo, night by night.
C’est la vie.
Now keep going. 🗿🔥