So after my mildly exaggerated death experience, I decided to start living right. I mean, I haven’t met the love of my life, my dreams are still in progress, and man can’t afford die yet.
I have a lot of things cooking and a lot of stuffs out there (google my name and find out). And if I die, they’re going to blow up (because people never love you until you’re gone), then I would just end up like one of those 17th century artists who were paupers while alive, but now that they are dead their works are worth millions.
I trust my nigga Ike, he’s probably going to sell one of our WhatsApp conversations for $1.2 million, because, apparently, people buy stuff like that.
Now back to my story, I have been working out and this was solely because people have been telling me my tummy is now big 😪. I mean, that’s a sign of depression right there, guys!! But I have no idea what’s making me depressed, I’ve been relatively happy, but this depression must be real sneaky. There is one thing I never have and that’s a big belly, it’s just not me.
I am not yet ready to disclose my work out plan, but it’s just been two days and I feel fit and I think my stamina has increased, I can even see the outline of my 6 abs 💪🏿.