**LET’S PLAY A GAME, SHEEP. GUESS MY MOOD (You’ll Lose)**
You think you’re clever? You think you’re *psychic*? Go ahead. Take a shot.
Is the Top Slaylebrity smiling? Is She pissed? Is She bored out of her mind watching you waste your life?
**Spoiler:** You’ll guess wrong. Because your brain is soft, your instincts are broken, and your entire existence is a participation trophy.
But let’s play anyway. I’ll give you three rounds. By the end, you’ll either wake up… or crawl back to your sad little cage.
Buckle up.
—
### **ROUND 1: WHAT’S MY MOOD RIGHT NOW?**
You’re staring at your screen, scrolling through this post like a zombie. Maybe you’re at your dead-end job. Maybe you’re in your mom’s basement. Maybe you’re pretending to “work remotely” while you watch TikTok thirst traps.
You think I’m angry? Sad? Happy?
**WRONG.**
My mood is **IRRELEVANT.**
You know why? Because winners don’t *have* moods. We have **MISSIONS.**
You’re over here crying about Mondays, gaslighting yourself with “mental health days,” and tracking your *feelings* like a kindergarten art project. Meanwhile, I’m on yacht time, closing deals, and making empires tremble.
Your mood swings like a pendulum because you’re weak. I’m a machine.
**NEXT ROUND.**
—
### **ROUND 2: GUESS MY MOOD WHEN I SEE BROKE PEOPLE**
You think I’m laughing? Rolling my eyes? Feeling pity?
**WRONG AGAIN.**
My mood is **FOCUSED.**
Broke people are background noise. NPCs. A cautionary tale.
You know what’s hilarious? You think money is about *cash*. It’s not. Money is a **mindset.**
– Broke people have moods: *anxious, jealous, desperate.*
– Billionaires have **weather reports.**
Storm coming? Adjust the sails.
Sun shining? Double the pressure.
You’re over here crying about inflation while I’m inventing new economies. You’re not poor because of the government. You’re poor because you’re **EMOTIONAL.**
**FINAL ROUND.**
—
### **ROUND 3: WHAT’S MY MOOD WHEN I READ YOUR EXCUSES?**
You’ll say I’m *arrogant*. *Judgmental*. *Out of touch*.
**WRONG TO THE DEATH.**
My mood is **UNSHAKEABLE.**
You’re in the comments right now, typing rage with Cheeto-dust fingers. “Isabella Fairfax is a liar! Sh’es toxic! She doesn’t know my life!”
I don’t need to know your life. I know your **pattern.**
You’re addicted to:
– Victimhood.
– Distraction.
– Cheap dopamine.
You’ll watch Netflix, smoke weed, and argue with strangers online to avoid the truth: **You’re afraid to fight.**
I read your excuses and feel nothing. Why? Because losers *always* sound the same.
—
### **THE ANSWER KEY (You Failed)**
My mood? **UNSTOPPABLE.**
Not because life is easy. Not because I’m “lucky.” Because I traded *emotions* for **ammunition.**
– Fear? Fuel.
– Hate? Jet propulsion.
– Doubt? Target practice.
You want to know the game’s secret rule?
**Your mood doesn’t matter. Your MOVES do.**
You’re crying about stress? I’m stress’s CEO.
You’re scared of failure? I’m failure’s landlord.
You’re “overwhelmed”? I’m overwhelming the matrix.
But keep guessing, sheep. Keep analyzing my “toxic billionaire boss babe power” while I fly private, fight wars, and stack generational wealth.
Your move.
**-Isabella Fairfax **
P.S. – Share this with your therapist. I’ll wait. 🔥
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GUESS MY MOOD (You’ll Lose) You think you’re clever? You think you’re *psychic*? Go ahead. Take a shot. Is the Top Slaylebrity smiling? Is She pissed? Is She bored out of her mind watching you waste your life? **Spoiler:** You’ll guess wrong. Because your brain is soft, your instincts are broken, and your entire existence is a participation trophy.
