Answered that for you 0.1

12/18/2025

Narcissists learn that if they flatter and charm the right people, they get a free pass to abuse others because no one believes the victims.

They carefully curate an image that looks kind, generous, successful, or “misunderstood,” especially in public. To outsiders, they are polite, funny, helpful, and emotionally intelligent. They know exactly who to impress and how to perform for an audience. This isn’t accidental — it’s strategic. By winning over friends, family, coworkers, or authority figures, they build a shield of credibility around themselves.

Behind closed doors, however, the mask slips. The same person who is admired by everyone else becomes dismissive, cruel, manipulative, or emotionally violent toward their target.

When the victim finally speaks up, the narcissist’s reputation does the talking for them. People think, “They would never do that,” or “You must have misunderstood,” or worse, “You’re too sensitive.”

This is how narcissists maintain power: not just through abuse, but through disbelief. They rely on the gap between who they appear to be and who they actually are. They exploit the victim’s confusion, silence, and fear of not being believed. Over time, this isolation makes the victim doubt their own reality while the narcissist continues harming others without consequences.

The charm isn’t kindness.

The flattery isn’t sincerity.

It’s camouflage — and it’s one of the most dangerous tools they use.
“Andy Burg”

12/17/2025

Silence is my new answer to disrespect.
I no longer react, because not everything deserves my energy.
I no longer argue, because explaining myself to people committed to misunderstanding me is pointless.
I no longer dive into drama, because chaos is not connection.

I simply remove my presence.

Not out of bitterness, but out of self-respect.
Not because I’m weak, but because I’m done proving strength to people who benefit from my exhaustion.

Walking away is not avoidance.
It’s discernment.
And peace has become more valuable to me than being heard.
“Andy Burg”

12/16/2025

I have learned three lessons this year:

To leave people where they are — because not everyone is meant to grow with you, and forcing understanding only drains you.
To accept situations for what they are — not what you hoped they’d become, not what they could be if someone changed, but what they consistently show themselves to be.
And to understand that not every action needs a reaction — silence is sometimes stronger than confrontation, distance is sometimes the healthiest response, and peace is worth more than being right.

Growth didn’t come from fixing others.
It came from choosing myself, protecting my energy, and learning when to walk away without explanation.
“Andy Burg”

12/15/2025

Women don’t leave safe, stable, supportive, loving men.

They leave confusion.
They leave emotional neglect disguised as “I’m just not good at expressing myself.”
They leave inconsistency that slowly erodes trust.
They leave having to beg for basic effort, clarity, and reassurance.

A woman who feels safe doesn’t keep one foot out the door.
A woman who feels supported doesn’t fantasize about being alone just to feel peace.
A woman who feels loved doesn’t wake up questioning her worth, her intuition, or her reality.

Women leave when they feel unseen while standing right next to someone.
When their needs are minimized, postponed, or labeled as “too much.”
When they’re asked to be endlessly patient while their own emotional tank runs dry.

They leave when stability is conditional.
When love is offered only on good days.
When accountability is replaced with defensiveness.
When apologies never come, but excuses always do.

Women will fight hard for a man who shows up consistently.
They will stay through stress, hardship, and growth when there is mutual effort and emotional safety.
What they won’t stay for is loneliness inside a relationship.

So when a woman finally walks away, it’s rarely impulsive.
It’s after countless conversations.
After giving chances.
After shrinking herself to make things work.

She doesn’t leave because she stopped loving.
She leaves because she stopped feeling loved.
“Andy Burg”

12/15/2025

Normalize
not keeping
abuser’s secrets.

Silence protects them.
Not you.

You don’t owe privacy
to people
who stole your safety.

Air their s**t out.

Tell the truth.
Say what happened.
Name the harm.

Abuse survives
in darkness.

Healing begins
in the open.

If telling the truth
ruins their image,
it’s because
the image was fake.

You’re not wrong
for speaking.

You’re done
protecting someone
who never protected you.

12/15/2025

I met the saddest version of myself this year, too—the one who moved through life on autopilot, carrying weight no one else could see. I lost my spark, my clarity, my sense of direction. I lost pieces of myself I thought were permanent, parts I never imagined I’d have to go searching for again. Some days it felt like everything familiar had slipped through my fingers at once.

But here’s the part that matters: I’m still here. And I’m working on finding my way back to me again.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Healing isn’t linear, and rediscovering yourself doesn’t happen in one brave moment. It happens quietly—when you get out of bed even though your heart feels heavy, when you choose rest instead of self-blame, when you stop pretending you’re okay and start being honest with yourself. It happens when you forgive yourself for surviving the only way you knew how at the time.

Losing your spark doesn’t mean it’s gone forever. Sometimes it just goes dormant, buried under grief, exhaustion, disappointment, or betrayal. Sometimes you had to fall apart to see what was never truly aligned. The version of you that struggled wasn’t weak—it was overwhelmed, hurting, and still trying to endure.

Finding your way back doesn’t mean becoming who you used to be. It means becoming someone wiser, more self-aware, more protective of their peace. Someone who knows their limits now. Someone who understands that softness and strength can exist in the same body.

Take your time. Rebuilding yourself is not a race. Every small step counts—every boundary set, every moment of self-compassion, every day you choose not to give up on yourself. You’re not broken. You’re becoming.

And the fact that you’re trying—right now, after everything—that tells me your spark is already flickering back to life.
“Andy Burg”

12/15/2025

A child cannot consent. Ever. There is no gray area, no nuance, no confusion to “discuss.”

Consent requires understanding, power, and freedom to choose without fear or pressure. A child has none of those. They do not have the cognitive development to grasp consequences, the emotional maturity to navigate coercion, or the authority to say no to an adult who holds power over them. That imbalance alone makes consent impossible—by definition.

Anyone who tries to complicate this truth is not confused; they are deflecting. Language like “misunderstanding,” “maturity,” “curiosity,” or “context” is often used to soften something that should never be softened. It’s an attempt to blur a line that is actually razor-sharp. Adults are responsible for protecting children, not exploiting their vulnerability and then hiding behind wordplay.

There is no scenario where a child agreeing, not resisting, or not fully understanding makes abuse less abusive. Silence is not consent. Compliance is not consent. Confusion is not consent. The responsibility always lies with the adult—always.

This is not a moral debate. It is a fact. And the moment society starts pretending otherwise is the moment it fails its most basic duty: keeping children safe.
“Andy Burg”

12/15/2025

12/14/2025

I don’t believe in revenge, because people with ugly hearts eventually ruin their own lives all on their own.

You don’t have to expose them, outplay them, or make them feel the pain they caused. Their character will do that work for you. A person who lies, manipulates, betrays, or moves through life without empathy carries that damage everywhere they go. It shows up in their relationships, their peace of mind, their inability to keep anything real or lasting. They don’t need punishment from you—their nature is already the punishment.

Revenge requires energy, attention, and emotional attachment. Healing requires detachment. When you step back and choose not to retaliate, you’re not being weak—you’re being free. You’re refusing to let someone else’s ugliness turn you into a version of yourself you don’t recognize.

People with good hearts may get hurt, but they heal. People with ugly hearts may “win” temporarily, but they never rest. They’re always looking over their shoulder, always repeating the same cycles, always destroying what they touch because they don’t know how to nurture, protect, or be accountable. That’s a lonely existence, even when it’s loud on the outside.

The most powerful response is living well, staying kind without being naive, and walking away without bitterness. Let life handle them. It always does—quietly, slowly, and in ways no act of revenge ever could.
“Andy Burg”

12/14/2025

Take it personally. Not in a way that breaks you, but in a way that finally tells you the truth.

They knew it would hurt you—and they chose to do it anyway. That part matters. People aren’t always ignorant; sometimes they’re aware, calculated, and willing to trade your pain for their comfort, convenience, or ego. When someone proceeds despite knowing the damage it will cause, that’s not a mistake. That’s a decision.

Intent speaks louder than apology. Apologies are easy when the damage is already done. They cost nothing after the fact. But intention is revealed in the moment of choice—when they could have paused, considered you, respected the bond, and chose differently. They didn’t. And no amount of regret afterward erases that truth.

Taking it personally doesn’t mean blaming yourself. It means acknowledging that you were considered—and still disregarded. It means recognizing that their actions were not accidental, impulsive, or harmless. They were informed. And informed harm tells you exactly where you stand.

People show you who they are not when they’re explaining themselves, but when they’re deciding. If someone repeatedly chooses behavior that wounds you, knowing the impact, believe that pattern. Not the words. Not the tears. Not the promises to “do better next time.”

You’re allowed to let that realization sharpen your boundaries. You’re allowed to walk away without waiting for closure or a perfect apology. Because respect isn’t proven by how sorry someone sounds—it’s proven by what they refuse to do once they know it hurts you.

Take it personally enough to protect yourself.
Not enough to internalize their lack of care,
but enough to never ignore it again.
“Andy Burg”

12/14/2025

Life has officially taught me that anyone can switch up.
No matter the history. No matter the bond. No matter how many memories, promises, or late-night conversations you shared.

Time doesn’t guarantee loyalty.
Love doesn’t guarantee consistency.
And history doesn’t guarantee respect.

People change when their needs change.
When convenience replaces connection.
When growth exposes incompatibility.
Or when loyalty becomes too uncomfortable to maintain.

Some switch up quietly.
Some do it loudly.
Some justify it.
Some deny it.
But the lesson is always the same: never anchor your entire sense of security in another human being.

What stays is not who they were to you once—but who they choose to be now.

And learning that doesn’t make you bitter.
It makes you aware.
“Andy Burg”

12/14/2025

There’s a reason David Banner’s statement resonates with so many people—it speaks to a broader issue of character consistency.

Cheating isn’t just a private mistake; it’s a deliberate choice to violate trust while actively managing deception. It requires lying, compartmentalizing, justifying harmful behavior, and prioritizing personal gratification over commitments. Those same traits don’t magically turn off when someone walks into a boardroom, signs a contract, or manages other people’s livelihoods.

In professional environments, trust is currency. Businesses rely on honesty, reliability, discretion, and ethical judgment. When someone has already demonstrated that they can betray the person they vowed loyalty to—the one relationship that’s supposed to be built on integrity—it raises a fair question: What stops them from doing the same when the stakes are financial, reputational, or strategic?

This isn’t about moral grandstanding or pretending people can’t change. People can grow. But growth requires accountability, self-reflection, and demonstrated change over time—not excuses like “it’s my personal life” or “it didn’t affect my work.” The issue isn’t s*x; it’s dishonesty.

Someone who cheats has already shown:
• Comfort with deception
• Willingness to live a double life
• Ability to rationalize harmful choices
• Disregard for long-term consequences

Those qualities directly conflict with leadership, partnership, and fiduciary responsibility.

Of course, not every cheater will sabotage a business deal—but trust isn’t built on exceptions. It’s built on patterns. And patterns of betrayal, secrecy, and self-interest are red flags in any environment that depends on ethics and accountability.

At the end of the day, character isn’t situational.
How someone treats the people closest to them often reveals how they’ll treat everyone else—especially when no one’s watching.
“Andy Burg”