Haters.
Those squawking shitnuggets that cling to your coattails like a cloud of fleas, sucking you dry with their endless negativity.
It doesn’t matter where you are in life; they’ve always got a steaming pile of word-vomit locked and loaded, ready to spew all over your dreams.
First, they’ll call you a loser, a bottom-feeding parasite with delusions of grandeur.
But when you start making moves, they’ll smirk and say, “Seen this song and dance before, buddy. You’ll be back in the gutter soon enough.”
As you keep grinding, they’ll snicker, “Tick-tock, motherfucker. Let’s see how long you can keep this charade going.”
When you’re inches from the finish line, they’ll sneer, “Any idiot can start a race, but it takes a real champ to cross that line.”
Then, when you finally hit your goal, they’ll shrug and say, “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes.
Colour me unimpressed until you do it again.” And when you do? “Sure, anyone can win if they sell their soul. Real winners don’t need to cheat.”
As you keep stacking victories, they’ll grumble, “Get a load of this egomaniac. Pride comes before a fall, asshole.” When you don’t fall, they’ll pivot: “Yeah, you’ve got skills, but you’re still a slimy turd in my book.”
When you’re reaching the top, they’ll hiss, “Stepped on a lot of necks to get there, didn’t you? Karma’s a bitch, and she’s got your number.”
And finally, when you’re perched atop your throne, they’ll say, “I always knew you’d make it, you magnificent bastard. But you’re still a piece of shit.”
Here’s the thing: haters are gonna hate. They’ll judge you whether you’re facedown in the gutter or doing lines off a golden toilet. Fuck ’em. They’re just miserable pricks projecting their own inadequacies.
Win for yourself, for the people who matter. Use the haters’ bile as rocket fuel. They’ll always be there, gnashing their teeth in the shadows.
Let them choke on your success.
Stephen Walker.
P.S. You Like It Darker by Stephen King is on tonight’s reading agenda. Check it out if you dig his short stories.