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Let me tell ya something, kid. Life’s funny like that. You see me now, talking smooth, spinning words like it’s second nature. But it wasn’t always this way. Hell, in my teens, I couldn’t even speak. Not a word. Can you imagine that? A whole world full of people, and I was stuck in silence, watching life pass me by.

And faces? Forget it. For years, they all looked the same. A blur of noses, eyes, and mouths. So, what did I do? Did I sit there crying in bed, feeling sorry for myself? No, sir. I went to work. Created a bunch of YouTube channels dedicated to deepfaking faces. Hours every day, staring at actors' mugs until the differences started popping out like magic. It’s like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, one smirk and eyebrow arch at a time.

You see, I don’t run from problems like most people. Oh, no. I stare ‘em right in the eye, grin like the devil, and say, “Let’s dance.”

Now, here’s the kicker. Back in my teens, a psychologist sat me down, gave me one of those fancy IQ tests, and—bam—hit me with the verdict: “You’re a retard.” Yeah, you heard that right. A big ol’ stamp that basically said, “You’re not cut out for this world.” Let me tell you, that stung. It was like they handed me a life sentence before I’d even had a chance to really live.

But here’s the thing—I wasn’t about to let that be the final word on my story. No way.

When I couldn’t speak, I had to find another way to communicate. So, I started small, practicing where I could. I turned to chatting online. One contact turned into ten, ten turned into a hundred, and before I knew it, I had more than a thousand contacts in my messenger. I was relentless, messaging people day and night, practicing my writing, finding ways to express myself.

It wasn’t just about the words, though. It was about building confidence. Every message I sent was a small step toward breaking out of the prison my mind had built. And little by little, those steps started to add up.

What they called a weakness, I turned into a challenge. And what started as fumbling attempts at conversation became the foundation for something bigger—something stronger. Because when life tries to shut you down, you don’t just sit there and take it. You fight back. You build yourself up, piece by piece, until there’s no room left for the labels they tried to stick on you.

When I met my first girlfriend at 26, I couldn’t even talk to her the way most people would. Instead of having a normal conversation, I had to write everything out on a laptop while we were sitting together. Can you imagine that? There we were, face to face, but my words were stuck somewhere inside me, refusing to come out.

I typed out my thoughts, line by line, hoping she’d understand. It was awkward, sure, but at the time, it was the only way I knew how to connect with someone. And for a little while, it worked. She stayed. She listened. And for the first time, I felt like maybe I could have something real.

But life doesn’t always give you happy endings, does it? Not for someone like me. Eventually, she left. Why? Because of my low IQ. That’s what she told me, plain and simple. And hearing that—well, it cut deeper than any insult I’d ever heard.

But you know what? I didn’t let it break me. I turned that rejection into a fire, something to fuel me, to push me further than I’d ever gone before. That laptop, where I used to write out my words? It became the place where I started training my brain. Day after day, problem after problem.

And eventually, I did the unthinkable: I doubled my IQ. The boy who couldn’t finish school, who had to rely on a keyboard to speak, had grown into someone new. Someone stronger. Someone smarter.

Looking back now, that rejection wasn’t the end of the story. It was just the beginning of my greatest comeback.

And that’s why I make these YouTube videos. To train my speech. To sharpen my mind. To learn faces. And, yeah, to have a little fun while I’m at it. Because life isn’t about where you start, kid—it’s about where you’re going. And me? I’m going full throttle, pedal to the metal, leaving the past in the rearview mirror.

So, if anyone’s out there telling you who you are or what you’re worth, you just grin back and say, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”