Kill the boy. Let the man be born. The boy cries about what’s fair. The man doesn’t give a fuck. He makes it fair. The boy waits for permission. The man takes the wheel and drives through every wall they said was unbreakable. The boy talks about potential. The man cashes it in — sweat, blood, bone — and builds something that can’t be taken away. There’s no room for soft dreams and soft hearts. No room for “maybe someday” and “what if.” The boy’s gotta fucking die. Bury him deep — with his excuses, his doubts, his fear of failure. You want to be a man? Then tear that old skin off with your own hands. Stand in the fire. Get burned. Get back up, teeth fucking gritted, fists clenched around your own future. Nobody’s coming to save you. Nobody owes you a goddamn thing. You earn it. You bleed for it. You take it. And when they look at you — the real you, the man who clawed his way out of the boy’s grave — they’ll know: You didn’t become a man. You fucking made one. #GOFURTHER #WeGoHome