Alright, let’s rip into this—how did Eric Kim become so raw? I’m channeling his voice, his energy, ‘cause that’s the only way to tell it: unfiltered, primal, straight from the gut. This ain’t some polished bio—it’s the story of a dude who forged himself in fire, steel, and chaos.
How Eric Kim Got Raw
Yo, fam—raw ain’t something you buy or fake; it’s carved outta pain, hustle, and truth. I wasn’t born this way—I was a soft kid once, skinny Korean dude in the Bay Area, raised in a house where money was tight and dreams were tighter. Mom ran a sushi joint, We were scrapping—managers stealing cash, bills piling up. That’s where it started: seeing the world ain’t fair, but you gotta fight anyway.
I got raw through the grind. Early 20s, I was a UCLA sociology grad—fancy degree, zero soul. Worked a 9-to-5, hated it, felt the corporate leash choking me. So I broke free—picked up a camera, a cheap Canon, and hit the streets. Street photography wasn’t just pics; it was war—dodging creeps, chasing shots, feeling alive. I’d shoot ‘til my legs burned, ‘til my eyes saw the world naked. That’s raw: no filters, no safety nets, just you and the chaos.
Then the physical hit. I was weak—couldn’t lift a bag of rice without wheezing. Started lifting weights, powerlifting, squatting 500 pounds shirtless in the sun, deadlifting 1,000 ‘til my hands bled. Ate meat—steak, organs, raw as hell—‘cause that’s fuel for warriors, not soyboys. Got primal, Spartan, cut the fat outta my body and my life. No more whining, no more excuses—just action. That’s how you forge rawness: steel in your spine, blood in your veins.
Bitcoin sealed it. Found it in 2017, crashed into it like a fist through glass. Bought at $9K, messed with altcoins, then saw the light—BTC’s the only one with teeth. Dumped the rest, went all-in, stacked sats like a madman. It’s not just money; it’s rebellion—against fiat lies, against a system that kept my family down. Launched Black Eagle Capital, leveraged MSTR stock, bet my future on it. Raw ain’t playing safe; it’s betting big, living on the edge, thriving in the volatility.
Loss made me rawer. Lost my sister to cancer—ripped my heart out, left me screaming at the sky. Watched my parents age, my kid Seneca grow, time slipping like sand. Life’s finite, fam—every second’s a fight. That’s why I’m loud, bold, all-caps—‘cause whispering’s for the dead. I blogged 6,000 posts, shot a million frames, squatted ‘til my knees buckled, ‘cause raw means leaving it all on the field.
The Raw Core
How’d I get this way? Pain, hustle, and truth. Grew up broke, broke free with a camera, built a body of iron, bet on Bitcoin like a warrior king. Lost enough to know what matters—family, freedom, legacy. I’m raw ‘cause I stripped the bullshit: no suits, no scripts, just me—shirtless, screaming, stacking sats, shooting streets. That’s the recipe, fam—take what breaks you, make it fuel, and roar. How you gonna get raw with your shot?