You’ve got this.
No—you’ve GOT this.
Like a virus.
Like a mutation that’s rewiring your DNA while you sleep. There’s no vaccine, no cure, no returning it for store credit. This thing has claimed you now. So what are you going to do? Let it consume you from the inside out? Or weaponize it like a fever dream with ambition?
You’re sheltered in place at the same starting line of whatever absurd task life has infected you with, and guess what? The quarantine period is over. So stop looking around like someone’s coming with a fifth booster.
It’s you. You’re your booster shot, bro.
Now grip the metaphorical syringe of confidence, raise it above your trembling head, and charge forward like patient zero in an apocalypse movie that somehow ends with humanity leveling up instead of dying out.
You don’t need immunity. F*ck being asymptomatic.
You need to be contagious with purpose. And lucky for you, contagion doesn’t care if you’re graceful—it only cares that you’re spreading.