𝗘𝗟

ＴＲＵＴＨ ＳＥＥＫＥＲ
Lɪɢʜᴛᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

If I've ever helped any of you or been of use to you, could you post something about it here?

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

To the new followers crying “AI slop” every time I write more than three sentences, fucking hell, some of you have the attention span of a goldfish with brain damage.

Yes, I waffle. Yes, my spelling is atrocious. Sometimes I write essays, sometimes I write two lines, and sometimes I ask questions so fucking weird even Grok probably needs a cigarette afterwards.

I ask questions because I enjoy hearing different opinions. I'm still learning. A teacher who thinks he's finished being a student is just an idiot with an audience.

And yes, I use AI to fix my grammar. I've been speaking into laptops since university because typing everything out is a ballache. It's called using tools, you absolute doughnuts.

If you're going to scream “AI slop” bring your screenshots and your detection tools. Don't just throw around the latest buzzword because your brain overheats after the second paragraph.

And to the new followers bringing that bitter energy, just because you've followed a load of bullshit accounts doesn't mean everyone you follow is full of shit.

Anyway, welcome aboard. Try reading.

Good night 😴

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Everything life throws at you is a lesson. Even the shit that nearly breaks you.

Someone betrays you? Learn. You love someone and lose them? Learn. You take a risk and fail? Good. You've just found out something you didn't know. And when you win, don't get so drunk on success that you forget what it taught you.

I know it's hard to be grateful when life is kicking your arse. But bitterness keeps you trapped in the same experience, while gratitude changes how you see it. And watch how the universe starts responding when you stop complaining about every setback and start appreciating what it's teaching you.

Some lessons cost you money. Others cost you people. The expensive ones cost you years.

Make sure you get your money's worth.

Gratitude is the attitude, baby 🫶

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Hey @grok, what the fuck is going on here?

Jesus, Serapis, Quetzalcoatl and the Statue of Liberty. Different civilisations, centuries apart, yet similar symbols keep appearing.

Is there an actual historical connection, or have we been looking at the same idea wearing different faces?

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Hey @grok, why is sleeping with your feet pointing directly towards the bedroom door considered one of the worst positions in Feng Shui? And why is it known as the “coffin position” or “dead man's position”? What's the disturbing connection to death and ancient burial customs?

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Nobody warns you how fucking boring life can get when you quit cocaine, alcohol or even weed.

At first, you're buzzing, feeling like you've finally got your shit together. Then a couple of weeks later, your favourite music sounds like it was produced by the local council, and even a sunny day feels like someone forgot to pay the electricity bill for your soul.

Your brain's got used to chemical fireworks. Now you're asking it to enjoy a walk in the park and a fucking sandwich. It's looking at you like you've cancelled Netflix and replaced it with a documentary about paving slabs.

And fuck me, the last six years haven't helped. Lockdowns, isolation, everything since 2021, all the uncomfortable truths people have been wrestling with. I understand why some of you struggled. The world went mental, and everyone was expected to carry on like nothing happened.

The dangerous part is mistaking that emptiness for your permanent personality. You start thinking life was better when you were getting fucked up, forgetting that's what made ordinary life feel so dull.

Your brain can recover. For some people, it takes around nine months to feel a real difference.

Then one day, an old song hits differently. You're laughing at something stupid, enjoying the sunshine, actually looking forward to tomorrow without needing anything in your system.

You'll still have shit days. Even people who've never touched drugs sometimes want to tell the entire planet to fuck off.

But it does get better. The colour comes back, the laughter comes back, and eventually you stop counting the days because you're too busy enjoying them.

Don't give up before you get there.

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

What do you know? Blueface is in a 4 Personal Year AND his enemy year. 4 represents law and order. & Andrew Tate is also in a 4 Personal Year

But apparently numerology an astrology isn't real. Fuck me, you can't make this shit up

Just a coincidence, right? Or is God testing them? 🙄

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

The Most High left hidden codes throughout creation for us to discover. And yes, I said the Most High. Humanity's worshipped thousands of gods, yet every religion's convinced their bloke got the exclusive interview.

You seriously think some geezer in a robe 2,000 years ago cracked every secret of existence, and the rest of us were born to pay council tax and follow instructions?

Fuck me, we've barely figured out our own consciousness, but apparently Dave from the church has God's entire autobiography memorised.

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Get back to basics. Grab a pen and write down exactly what the fuck you want out of life

Most people haven't got a clue. Ask them what they want and you'll get some vague bollocks about being happy, rich and successful. Brilliant, mate. You've just described half the planet

Be specific. What do you want? How much? By when? Write it down like you're placing an order, not making a wish to a fucking genie

The universe loves a clear intention. Stop sending it blurry instructions and wondering why your life's a mess

Even a sat nav needs a destination

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Half the population needs a fucking factory reset. 🤣

Same opinions, same behaviour, same downloaded programming. Some of you haven't had an original thought since Windows XP.

Stand out. Break the fucking mould. You're not here to fit in with people running corrupted software.

And stop taking life advice from people whose consciousness is still running on software from before 2020.

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

I used to be an arse guy when I was younger, never questioned it. Then I did two years of semen retention and started realising some funny shit.

I genuinely think most blokes obsessed with women's arses are a bit fucking gay.

Think about it. The glutes are the biggest muscle group in the human body. Pure muscle, strength, Yang energy, masculine characteristics. So you've got millions of blokes claiming they love feminine women while spending half their lives worshipping the most masculine-looking part of their anatomy.

And I reckon CornHub has programmed half of you into it. Same camera angles, same dopamine hits, years of conditioning. You've basically let a bunch of strangers decide what gets your dick excited.

After retaining my seed, I started appreciating the actual woman. Her eyes, face, feminine energy, that Yin and Yang connection. Not just staring at two lumps of muscle like a fucking Labrador waiting for someone to throw a tennis ball.

Some of you are so obsessed with arses I genuinely reckon you could fall in love with a bloke if he had the right leggings on.

Imagine spending your whole life thinking you're an alpha male only to discover your biggest weakness is two muscular cheeks.

Fucking hell, lads. 🤣

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Hey @grok, what are the best tips, tricks and life lessons from The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson?

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

You want to know how to deal with a narcissist? It's actually fucking simple. But first, you've got to stop looking at them like they're some poor, misunderstood soul who just needs another chance.

You've given them more chances than a dodgy kebab shop gets after poisoning half the town. Enough.

The biggest mistake people make is trying to confront them, expose them, teach them a lesson or get revenge. Fuck all that. You're trying to win an argument with someone who'll set the kitchen on fire, blame you for buying the matches, then start crying because nobody asked if they're okay.

You're playing chess with a pigeon. It'll knock the pieces over, shit on the board and strut around like it's just beaten Magnus Carlsen.

And you're still sitting there planning your next move.

Listen carefully. Some people aren't interested in sorting things out. They just want to keep you tangled up in their bullshit. As long as you're explaining yourself, defending yourself, apologising or begging them to understand, they've still got your attention.

And that's exactly what they want.

They don't necessarily love you for who you are. They love the version of themselves they get to see through your admiration. You've become their personal mirror, therapist, cheerleader and emergency emotional support animal.

All unpaid, by the way.

They've trained you to feel responsible for their happiness. When they explode, you're supposed to calm them down. When they cry, you're supposed to comfort them. When they treat you like shit, you're supposed to remember that one lovely afternoon six months ago when they bought you a coffee and didn't insult your entire bloodline.

Fucking congratulations. You've been promoted to looking after the emotions of a fully grown adult who can't even manage their own.

And the tactics? Christ alive.

One minute they're shouting like a possessed auctioneer. The next they're crying crocodile tears, telling you nobody's ever understood them. Then comes the tragic childhood story, followed by a suspiciously convenient apology and just enough affection to make you question whether you imagined the whole bloody thing.

You didn't.

A little kindness arrives after a mountain of misery, and suddenly that tiny crumb feels like a five-course meal.

You're starving for affection, and they're handing you half a digestive biscuit like they've just saved your life.

And you're thanking them.

Look at what happens to you. You walk into a conversation feeling perfectly normal. Forty minutes later, you're exhausted, apologising for something you didn't do and wondering whether you're the problem because you apparently breathed with an aggressive tone.

How the fuck did we get here?

Because the conversation never stays about the original problem. Somehow, every bloody thing ends up being about their feelings, their suffering and their version of events. They've built an entire little kingdom out of excuses, and you're paying the council tax.

Now watch what happens when you stop trying to convince them.

You stop explaining what they've done wrong for the 97th time. You stop delivering PowerPoint presentations on basic human decency to someone who's already seen the slides and set the projector on fire.

You finally see what they're doing.

And once you see it, the whole performance starts looking fucking ridiculous.

The sudden tears. The convenient emergencies. The dramatic apologies. The little scraps of affection arriving precisely when you're about to leave.

It's like watching a magician after somebody's shown you where he hides the fucking rabbit.

You can't unsee it.

And that's when you stop playing.

No grand speech. No final courtroom statement. No twelve-page essay explaining why you've had enough. You've already explained yourself so many times you could publish the transcripts as a fucking trilogy.

Just leave the game.

Because people who rely on controlling your reactions often struggle when you stop giving them what they want. They might try anger, guilt, promises or one last spectacular performance worthy of an Oscar.

Let them audition somewhere else.

You don't need to sit in the front row clapping while somebody repeatedly turns your life into a fucking circus.

And forget revenge. Seriously. What are you going to do, spend another six months thinking about someone you're supposedly trying to escape?

That's like escaping prison and immediately applying for a job as the fucking prison cleaner.

Move on.

You might wonder what happens when you stop giving them attention. Will they find somebody else? Will they repeat the same behaviour? Will they finally realise what they've lost?

Who gives a shit?

Their next relationship isn't your problem. You're not responsible for teaching them how to behave. Whether they change, fall apart, apologise or suddenly discover Buddhism in a Tesco car park is their business.

You've got your own life to get back.

And understand something about attention. For someone who constantly needs a reaction, even your anger can be enough to keep them going. Every furious paragraph, every late-night argument, every desperate attempt to make them admit the truth keeps you stuck in the same old bullshit.

Stop giving it to them.

If no contact is safe and practical, that means no midnight essays, no checking their profile to see whether they're miserable, no sending one last message disguised as closure. If you've got children, legal matters or shared responsibilities, keep communication limited to what's necessary.

You don't need to burn your entire house down because somebody left a toothbrush in the bathroom. Get your belongings, sort your responsibilities and get on with your life.

And please, for the love of God, stop treating every little thing they post online like it's some secret message meant for you.

They post a sunset. You think it's about you.

They post a song. You analyse the lyrics.

They change their profile picture and suddenly you're sitting there at three in the morning trying to work out what a fucking haircut means.

Mate, go to bed.

You've got to stop making their every move your business. You're supposed to be getting away from them, yet you're still checking what they're doing, who they're following and whether they're having a worse time than you.

You're practically doing unpaid surveillance on someone you claim you want nothing to do with.

And for what?

So you can find one tiny little clue that they miss you? Then what? You're back where you started, staring at your phone like a fucking meerkat waiting for something to happen.

The real victory is when you couldn't give a shit what they're doing anymore.

You wake up one morning, make yourself a coffee, get on with your day and realise you haven't thought about their nonsense once.

No arguments. No checking their account. No sitting in the shower rehearsing what you should've said six months ago.

Just getting on with your bloody life.

And the funniest part?

You spent months trying to get them to understand you.

Then one day, you finally understood what was going on.

And you left.

Game over.

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Hey @grok If Jesus died on a cross, why do we see him on a tree in so many works of art?

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

@GOVUK Gain an hour? You nicked it off us back in March, you cheeky bastards. Now you're handing it back in October like you've done us a favour

That's like someone stealing your wallet, returning it six months later and expecting a fucking thank-you card

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Stress is caused by one's resistance to what is

That's for somebody

Love ya, fam!

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Heard about this manifestation guru who spent years teaching broke people how to attract unlimited wealth.

Charged £888 a course. Told everyone to trust the universe, visualise millions and stop thinking like fucking peasants.

And the funniest part? It actually worked. For him.

Thousands of gullible bastards kept sending him money to learn how to manifest money. The cunt had basically invented a pyramid scheme with incense sticks and a Buddha statue. He was driving a Bentley while his disciples were sitting on the bus whispering affirmations to their overdrafts.

Then people started clocking they'd been mugged off by a bloke in linen trousers. Refund demands piled up, his followers turned on him and the money dried up faster than his fucking incense sticks.

The Bentley vanished. Landlord came knocking. Suddenly the universe wasn't answering his calls.

Bloke went from manifesting Lamborghinis to manifesting an extra seven days before eviction.

He called it a spiritual awakening.

The bailiffs called it Tuesday.

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

One thing nobody fucking tells you when you arrive on planet Earth is that you've got to look after your mental. Seriously, this place is an absolute madhouse. You've got to watch what you're thinking, what you're dwelling on and what sort of bollocks you're allowing to squat in your skull.

People genuinely believe every thought they have is their own. Meanwhile, we've invented technology that would've had the entire population burnt at the stake 400 years ago. Radio waves, frequencies, algorithms that know you're having a mental breakdown before you've even realised you're in a shit mood. And we're supposed to believe none of this stuff influences our thinking? Fucking hell.

Your mind is everything in this dimension.

Consciousness affects how you experience reality. Spend enough time entertaining miserable thoughts and you'll end up walking around with your own personal thundercloud, wondering why everyone you meet seems to be another miserable bastard.

And the people running this circus? Fear is practically a business model. Keep everyone anxious, angry, distracted and arguing over absolute bollocks. Whether someone's pulling the strings or simply cashing in on the madness, you're still the poor sod paying for it with your peace of mind.

So here's my advice. Become fucking delusional.

No, seriously. DELUSIONAL. Start thinking about what you actually want to happen. Talk about it. Picture it. Become so absurdly convinced it's possible that people start looking at you like you've escaped from a psychiatric ward wearing the doctor's uniform.

I've seen what happens when you stop obsessing over everything that could go wrong and start putting that same energy into what you want. Your whole outlook changes. You start acting differently, noticing things you previously ignored, and making moves you would've talked yourself out of.

What you constantly focus on grows in your mind. So why the fuck are people spending their entire existence watering the weeds and then complaining there's no flowers?

And remember, you're supposed to be here. Somehow, out of every possible character that could've been spawned into this bizarre fucking simulation, you ended up conscious, surrounded by eight billion confused lunatics arguing over who understands the game while nobody can even find the bloody instruction manual.

That's fucking hilarious when you think about it.

Get back on the horse. Choose thoughts that actually do you some good. Make somebody laugh, lift someone's spirits, and stop letting miserable people drag you into their own personal sewage system.

Become delusional. Feel good. Help other people feel good.

You're already participating in a reality nobody can fully explain, surrounded by people who think they've got it all figured out.

Might as well start playing the fucking game your way.

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Hey @grok, were these enormous ancient doors built for giants, or did our ancestors just have a serious fucking problem with measuring things? Who were they expecting to walk through?

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Hey @grok, why the fuck does this supposed human nervous system look like a demonic octopus that escaped Area 51? Are we humans or haunted electrical squids? And is this image actually real?

[𝗘𝗟 @MasterNumber]

Imagine spending £40,000 constructing the perfect masculine face, then discovering your girlfriend fancies a plumber called Dave with crooked teeth and a beer belly. Dave hasn't even heard of peptides. He's busy fixing her pipes.