Kendrick Lamar.

"Tell me somethin', you motherfuckers can't tell me nothing."

If you read the title and thought this blog post would be a full breakdown of the Kendrick(and the world) v. Drake hip hop beef, well…You must be new here, huh? 

No, I’m actually here to announce that once again, I am shutting down my blog. And I think for good this time. 

Why? 

Well, that is a very good question, my loyal followers(my mom and my 3 friends)! And to make a long story short, it’s because shockingly what I knew to be true at twenty-three, still remains true today. 

Once I made my writing for public consumption, I started hating it. 

Five years ago now, I wrote a post about how I was shutting down my blog because I was tired of people telling me what I should write about. Like most thoughts and actions when you’re in your early twenties, I came to that conclusion in a way that externalized my locus of control. I thought I began to hate writing because of other people. I thought it was just my annoyance at others suggesting topics to write about or commenting on my posts that caused the burnout. 

I also, at the time, was writing for two online publications. One was much more niche, while the other was very popular. While I enjoyed writing for the more niche publication, as I had almost total control of my topics and subject matter, the other, bigger publication had strict parameters that sometimes didn’t even make logical sense and I had to produce a lot of articles to even turn a profit. Between the constant editing process and constantly trying to think of different topics in niche’s that were assigned to me, I straight up got burnt out and stopped writing completely  for almost a year, maybe more. 

For context. 

Prior to my early twenties, all I ever did was write. In High School, instead of classwork, or listening to my teachers, I would tune into the fantasy world I was creating. Primary school, much like for most of humanity, wasn't super fun for me. So I would always escape through my writing. I could escape anything I was going through in life through my pen and notebook. 

And now I realize, that’s where it always should have stayed. 

Anyone who has ever had even a modicum of artistic talent knows that there is always a very real pressure both internally, and externally, to either capitalize off that talent financially, or for that talent to be visible. And honestly, I began to fully buy into that hype around my senior year of High School. That year I wrote a college admissions essay that was the sole reason I even got into university (2.5 GPA gang). I also took a creative writing course where the teacher of the class, who was a published author, encouraged me to pursue creative writing as a vocation. I’m not going to bore y’all with the details of what happened in undergrad(if you’re reading my blogs you likely know me enough to already know what happened with that) but essentially, I more or less had an internal battle between a practical STEM degree and creative writing. I worked in the university learning center as a writing tutor and even wrote for the campus newspaper. However, ultimately I would pursue a degree that was both impractical and not creative writing(best of both worlds). However, after undergrad and moving across the country, I was determined to make something of writing. So I applied to publications and eventually started this blog out of that dream.

And here, we circle back to the present moment, April 12th, 2025. 

I have come to realize after almost a decade, that trying to fit myself into a box I wasn’t meant for is never going to be my path to happiness. This seems to be the theme of my twenties to be honest. Figuring out that who I was in essence at sixteen, is also who I am at twenty-nine, albeit, with a fully formed frontal lobe. I think I spent almost my entire adult existence fighting against who I was as a person. I thought in my early twenties I cared about being a career woman, then in my mid twenties, I thought I wanted to have no job and just be a housewife and live the life of luxury. Well, as it turns out, at almost thirty, I realize that no, I enjoy having a job, however, I do not want a “career” and never did because to be honest I’m not a person who values having one and never did. I never cared about school, never really found any type of vocation I “dream” of doing and quite frankly, I'd rather have a husband and family(sorry to my millennial “girl boss” programming). 

However, I think my most pertinent revelation is that I was never meant to make my writing public in any way. It is a conclusion I've been fighting against but ultimately have acquiesced to because making my writing public 1. Made me more miserable and 2. Didn’t even garner any type of audience and the audience I did garner from my honest thoughts and opinions while writing for a more niche publication, always gave me push back because my opinions hurt their “wittle feewings”. So in the end, I made myself more miserable, began to hate the very hobby I define myself by, and nobody cared about what I had to say. Trying to fit what the larger society, and ultimately myself, defined as a successful writer made me hate the entire industry. And it’s my own fault. I felt like I would only be considered a “good” writer if other people validated me for it. But no, not only am I an excellent writer, I no longer need others to validate that fact. The fact that I've written for two of the biggest online entertainment media outlets (Collider & Screen rant) and was hired by both literally based off of an unedited analysis on the matrix that I wrote freeform. I have tutored and actively improved the writing skills of many of my peers, I’ve had writers for big name shows like The Daily Show and Insecure praise my work, and even more importantly, I don’t care about any of that because I know that there are very few people who come close to my level of wit, word-play, analysis and raw skill. I am now free because I finally believe that I am who I say I am. 

So why did I title this article Kendrick Lamar? 

Last year, Kendrick Lamar eviscerated prominent pop star Drake in what will likely go down in culture history as the greatest rap beef win of the decade…at least! However, before he ripped this man a new one the size of the observable universe, he released his fifth studio album, Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, which essentially was a love letter to his realizations about himself, his artistry, how he’s grown over the years, and his personal struggles and triumphs, and accountability. He also more or less made it clear that he was stepping away from the rap industry to focus on his own growth. 

That is, until Drake and J. Cole put his name in their mouths, which proved to be a detrimental mistake. 

So the conclusion of this last article is that. This article is a love letter to everything I have discovered about myself as I close out this decade called “your twenties”. I am leaving the public writing sphere to foster my own growth and to gain more fulfillment in my writing. 

However, much like Kendrick’s unexpected return in It’s Like That. This is also a fucking warning. 

Unlike Kendrick, I don’t have any industry opps but I have major beef with the majority of current society and a large part of me leaving the internet space is me getting increasingly fed up with dealing with bullshit AI/META overtaking every last vestiges of what made social media and the internet fun, stupid people(99%) and their opinions, politicians who are actively selling out the very citizens they are supposed to serve(All of them are bad), and would just like to get away from most of you in any way I can. 

So, If you ever see me post another blog, I can guarantee most of y’all gone be in your first world feelings about what will be said because it means I have had enough of society and I'm ready to be an enemy of the state. 

In conclusion, farewell but remember just like a real first person shooter, my temperament is bi-polar and I will ALWAYS choose violence.