Before you disqualify yourself from this work—this fight—for being too messed up, too broken, too loud, too sad, too angry, too much… let me tell you who I am.
I’m the President of the League of Extraordinary Beings.
I am nutty as a shithouse squirrel.
I’ve got a full constellation of war wounds, trauma, addiction, brain fog, panic attacks, and selves.
I’m not leading despite that. I’m leading because of that.
So don’t tell me your voices, outbursts, heartbreaks, rituals, or twitchy trauma reflexes make you unfit. They make you fluent. You’ve learned to read a battlefield others can’t see. You’re not broken—you’re trained.
This war we’re in is against suffering, cruelty, and spiritual starvation. If you’re willing to go to war for love, I expect nothing less than madness. The sharp kind. The kind that teaches. The kind that turns pain into practice and kindness into policy.
So get in the boat.
Talk to dogs. Cry at cartoons. Yell in traffic. Heal unevenly.
Whatever keeps you here, keep doing it—and help others stay too.
If I can lead this thing, then you are absolutely qualified to fight alongside me.
This is not about perfect people. This is about people crazy enough to care.
Get in. We’ve got a world to unfuck.