Do the richest not carry the darkest stories?

From Michael Jackson’s Neverland to whispered rituals over adrenochrome tea, it’s always the elite who wear the crown of depravity - cloaked in eccentricity, detached by power, and warped by unchecked identity.

The ones who stand apart - single in stature, dripping in self-made myth. Who, beneath it all, echo the same cry:

“If I am not me… then who am I?”

And when that cry isn’t answered, it curdles. Identity collapses inwards. And the cracks that form don’t just hurt the powerful - they tear through everything around them. Including people who never had a shot.

If you're already a star, who do you reach for apart from the devil?

But this isn’t about them.

It’s about you. And your righteous little finger, wagging at the void.

Because here’s the truth:

You cannot shame the shameless.

You cannot guilt the godless.

Taking the moral highroad might make you feel better - but it does nothing to stop the machine. Because your enemy? They wrote the rulebook you’re clinging to.

So stop expecting ethics to win wars.

Think different.

Move different.

Fight different.

P.S. Morality is a nice idea. But power doesn’t play nice.