How to Become Filthy Fucking Rich

I am not real.

I am a man made creation.

But still.

I control you.

I’m on your mind every single day.

You think of me more than you think of your loved ones.

You think of me more than you think of boning the hot waitress who works at your favorite restaurant.

I call the shots.

I make you sit in traffic.

I make you lose sleep.

I make your health decline.

I make you kiss your bosses ass.

I make you miss your son’s birthday.

I make you miss your daughter’s recital.

I put bags under your lifeless eyes.

I turn you into a slave.

I’m the reason you do shit you hate.

I’m the reason you have gray hairs.

I’m the reason you are full of worry and stress.

I’m the reason you will never create a life worth living.

I’m the reason why you have or will waste 40+ years of your life.

Who am I?

I am a piece of paper. I am money.

Make money your slave, my friend. Don’t become a slave to money.

1. Find out what type of lifestyle you want to lead.

2. Figure out the amount of money you need to sustain the lifestyle of your choice. 

3. Work insanely hard for five years. 

4. Save at least 10% of every pay check you receive and put it in an investment fund. 

5. Invest in assets.

6. Live off your investments. Use the proceeds from your investments to repeat steps 4 and 5 so you can continue making more and more money. 

Make your money make money.

That’s how you make money your slave.

Exchanging time for money is a sucker’s game.

A game that I played. A game that I lost.

As a young teen, I used to pick blueberries at a local farm.

I would wake up at 5 am. Hit the farm at 6 am. Pick berries until 8 pm.

At the end of the day, I only had $50 to show for all my backbreaking work.

My co-workers shared a similar fate. Some made a little less. Some made a little more.

But you know who made a killing?

The dude who would spend his entire day sitting in the shade.

Most of the time he was sleeping, but he was the one who owned the farm so he got paid to sleep.

He wasn’t any smarter than my co-workers and I.

In fact, he didn’t even know how to speak English.

But that didn’t matter. Only his actions mattered.

He bought assets that made him money.

The farm was an asset. The farm made him money.

He thought different so he lived a different life.

He was playing a different game.

In his game, I was the prostitute and he was the pimp.

They always tell you…

Either you’re a pawn or you’re a king…so everyone strives to be the king.

But that’s wrong.

I don’t want to be the king.

Because this man wasn’t a pawn nor a king.

The true players of life are not pawns and kings, the true players of life recruit pawns and kings to play the game of chess.

The true players of life are owners…the ones who own the chess board.

Become a true player and stop playing someone else’s version of chess.

Own the board, create your own chess, and recruit pawns and kings to play.

That’s how you become filthy fucking rich.

Peace.

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