Let’s be honest. KFC, burgers, chips, and soda were never created for “vibing” or soft life. These things were invented for broke people in America. I’m serious. Go to their low-income neighborhoods , every corner has fast food. And guess what else is on the next street? A hospital. It’s a brilliant system: feed them trash, then sell them medicine. Create the problem, then profit from the solution.
But here we are, in Nairobi, someone saves 600 bob, runs to KFC like they’ve been chosen by the gods of wealth. You chew that chicken like your ancestors never tasted oil. Then you post it. A full-blown photoshoot next to a burger and fries, with the caption: “Soft life things.”
My brother. That’s not soft life. That’s soft manhood knocking. That burger you’re worshipping is just a round-shaped heartbreak. That soda is a cold, fizzy funeral in a bottle. And those chips? Deep fried regret, seasoned with poor decisions.
Let me not even sugarcoat it ,no pun intended, some of you are struggling with erectile dysfunction at 23. You can’t even perform basic husband duties, and you’re blaming witchcraft. My friend, the only witch is the garbage you’re calling food. You’re out here eating oil with a side of oil, then wondering why your machine starts but can’t rev.
You can’t breathe properly after climbing one flight of stairs, but you still say you’re young. No bro, you’re young and dying slowly. You’re not eating to live. You’re eating for content, likes, and a future prescription.
And I’m not rich. I also like good things. But I’ve reached a point where I ask myselfmyself, is this thing feeding me or finishing me?
