Manjerica1
Rock Star
Platinum Level
It’s a Tuesday. Wake up 11:47 AM (because discipline is relative), open the lobby, fire up that beautiful $2.20 1K GTD. Not even coffee yet — just vibes and residual tilt from the AKo vs JJ last night that obviously bricked.
I’m 6-tabling micros like it’s SCOOP Main Event. Got PT4 running, not because I use it well, but because it makes me feel like a pro. Headphones on, lo-fi beats, hoodie up — we go to war.
Hour 2. Busted three of 'em on punts I’ll later justify as “range expansion”. Got one deep run going on a $1.10 Rebuy where I’m chip leading with 58 left. bankroll sitting at a majestic $117.44. Dreams? Priceless.
Then it hits me. My mom yelling:
“Você não vai arrumar um emprego de verdade não???” "( Arent you going to get a real job? ) "
And I’m there, trying to bluff some Romanian reg off middle pair while defending my career from the hallway.
But here’s the thing — I chose this. I’d rather live broke, stressed, and fulfilled than go clock in at some call center pretending to care about someone’s cable bill.
Poker gives me hope. Direction. Delusion? Maybe.
But it’s my delusion.
One deep run turns into two. One month breakeven, next one heater. Slowly, the hustle pays. $2.20 vira $5.50. Volume cresce. Mindset afia.
It’s not pretty. It’s not sexy.
But it’s the grind, bro.
It’s the ****ing grind.
I’m 6-tabling micros like it’s SCOOP Main Event. Got PT4 running, not because I use it well, but because it makes me feel like a pro. Headphones on, lo-fi beats, hoodie up — we go to war.
Hour 2. Busted three of 'em on punts I’ll later justify as “range expansion”. Got one deep run going on a $1.10 Rebuy where I’m chip leading with 58 left. bankroll sitting at a majestic $117.44. Dreams? Priceless.
Then it hits me. My mom yelling:
“Você não vai arrumar um emprego de verdade não???” "( Arent you going to get a real job? ) "
And I’m there, trying to bluff some Romanian reg off middle pair while defending my career from the hallway.
But here’s the thing — I chose this. I’d rather live broke, stressed, and fulfilled than go clock in at some call center pretending to care about someone’s cable bill.
Poker gives me hope. Direction. Delusion? Maybe.
But it’s my delusion.
One deep run turns into two. One month breakeven, next one heater. Slowly, the hustle pays. $2.20 vira $5.50. Volume cresce. Mindset afia.
It’s not pretty. It’s not sexy.
But it’s the grind, bro.
It’s the ****ing grind.
