I dropped to the lowest part of my mind and I broke.

I felt myself crumble.

“I SUBMIT!” I screamed.

I had no more fight in me. I couldn’t take one more step. I hated poverty SO MUCH… and I just had no strenght in me to fight it anymore. I had resolved to simply accept it.

I screamed and pounded the Stone Floors. I screamed and punched the walls. “FINE!” I screamed. “YOU WIN! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF THIS!”

I had spent two years in extreme poverty and had done little else but run Math equations to try and find an Algorithm to Poverty. And I sat it in.

I was done trying. I was done fighting. I was done resisting Poverty. I was just done.

In the Meta World, I had lived two years in extreme Poverty after being fired from my job that paid $80,000/Year. I had the Job — My Dream Job — and I hated it. It was not at all anything I wanted. So I set out to do what I wanted. I was promised — every step of the way — that “Just doing what you love” would bring me Money, and this didn’t yield me a single cent. I had done nothing but everything I loved in the place I loved for two years — and I was looking at an Eviction with $50,000 due on my Rent, $3,000 due on my Gas which was going to be shut off any day now. And no money to buy food.

And I was giving up. I didn’t care.

I was the World’s greatest Logician in an insane World. The World’ greatest Genius in a world that loathed Knowledge. I was the poorest person in the World.

My phone was suspended — again. My Zoom account, Post Office, and Canva were all due. And I didn’t even have the money to eat. Again.

I had no Family who I could go to or rely on and was at the end of my rope.

I sobbed into the stone floor.

Inside my Mind and the Abstract, I was already at the End of my Dreams and Beginning a new Chapter. In the Meta?

I refused to be a Slave. I refused to sell my Time or Body ever again.

If they wouldn’t have my Mind as I am, then they would have none of me.

I would be Homeless before I ever lived a Slave again.

My Freedom, my Truth, my Love and Nourishment were not For Sale.

And I had no more strength in me to Fight it. I was Poor. Too poor to wash my clothes. Too poor to have my Websites. Too poor to Exist.

I had such Anger and Hatred inside of me.

I had $30 and had walked to the Store. It was the first time I walked to the store without any Financial Anxiety. And when I got there — ten minutes later — the money was gone. While I was thinking, “We can eat for a few more days…” instantly I was thinking, “How are we going to eat tomorrow?”

I was done begging. I was done asking. I was done with all of it. I would rather starve.

I was angry. I had done nothing but “the work of the Universe” since 22 May 2022. And there I was — 11 February 2025 — and I was Wiser than the Whole Wide World and Impoverished. The first year of Poverty was Chosen. The second year of Poverty was not.

I knew — deep down — this Defeat and Submission was part of the process, and also, I just didn’t care anymore. I was sick of it all. I was sick of the Rat Race, the Lies, the Delusion. The DUMB FUCKING STUPID BULL SHIT the people told me about Manifesting Money. In Truth, not one person could and ever did Manifest Money instantly and on the spot CONSISTENTLY with 100% Accuracy.

Each one was a Liar.

It all broke everything down. It was all falling apart. It was coming down and I was submitting to it. I was done pushing this boulder up the Hill. If it could not roll it’s own damn self up this hill, then it would not be making itself up the hill.

I looked to my Dreams.

“You’re on your own. If you can’t carry your own weight, then I won’t be carrying it for you.”

I shrugged.

I curled up into myself on the cold, stone floor and wept.