Ronaldo, let’s be fucking honest. You’re fucking lost in your own abstract world. You talk a lot but say very little.
Your ideas are vague, your plans unrealistic, and your attitude? Bitter. You’re sitting in an attic like you’re twenty again, back in the pit, like a fucking game of Goose. That house in Portugal isn’t a dream. It’s a fucking burden. Everything you do seems aimed at making that one project profitable, but it’ll take years, energy, and probably your happiness.

You speak of creativity, higher goals, vibrations and transformation, but it sounds like the sermon of a failed priest. Your words are clichés, your statements hollow. If you want followers, start a cult. Because what you’re doing now is using people around you for a plan that mostly serves yourself, without listening or connecting to any of us.

You’re aggressive without cause, negative without reason. You seem frustrated about things that have nothing to do with me, yet you project them anyway. You’re harsh, but not clear. You lack humor, softness, humility. Be funny, And your talent? It’s in music. Not in building some abstract empire in Portugal. Why not just do what you’re actually good at?

You analyze, philosophize, but you forget to live. You forget that happiness isn’t found in chasing a fucking dream that drains you, but in doing what touches your little heart. Maybe you’re just becoming a landlord and that’s fine, but be fucking honest about it. For once!

Stop the lofty talk. Stop the fog. Be concrete. Be fucking human.

This is a collaborative text, authored by Hans Kuiper and his friend, subsequently refined through two stages of A.I. processing, and further edited and humanized by Sina Khani with the addition of numerous expletives. The multi-layered production process challenges conventional notions of authorship, aligning with the principles outlined in Roland Barthes’ essay “The Death of the Author”.