Let me tell you something I learned the hard way: if you are a creative, you cannot afford to walk this earth softly. I do not mean you should avoid kindness, and I do not mean you should become an asshole. I mean, you must stop letting life throw you around as if you do not have teeth.

The truth no one likes to say out loud is simple. The world does not reward talent. It rewards force. It rewards discipline. It rewards the people who decide, “I am going to exist loudly, whether anyone likes it or not.”

Jordan Peterson once said something that hit so hard it rearranged my spine: “You should be an absolute monster, and then learn how to control it.”

I realized quickly that this idea is not just for men or leaders or people in positions of authority. It is a rule for creatives more than anyone else. Society loves to declaw us.

We are expected to be harmless.

People love us when we are “nice.” They love us when we are broke. They love us when we are grateful for scraps. Yet the moment a creative grows teeth and says, “Actually, I am building an empire,” suddenly we are “intense,” “different,” or “dangerous.” And the truth is simple. Good. Be dangerous.

There is a cultural expectation that we should be gentle, grateful, and endlessly willing to work for exposure or opportunity or “the joy of doing what we love.” As if imagination should be an unpaid internship. The reality is far more powerful.

Creatives shape culture, language, aesthetics, stories, movements, and identity. Every film, building, brand, and revolution comes from someone’s imagination. Artists built civilization and then were convinced to sit quietly in the back. That myth exists to keep you tame. And you do not get to be tame anymore. Not if you intend to build something real.

Being harmless is a luxury reserved for the unambitious. You have empires to build. Let me also clarify what I mean when I tell you to be a monster. A monster is not someone who harms the world. A monster is someone the world cannot harm. A monster is a person with capacity. Capacity for discipline, intensity, sacrifice, ambition, and obsession.

It is someone who walks into a room without shrinking. Someone who sets boundaries without apologizing. Someone who looks life directly in the eye and says, “I am not moving off my mission.” Becoming a monster means becoming capable, focused, and committed to your own evolution.

Dreams require defense. Talent requires direction. Goals must be hunted. Every empire needs someone in its foundation who carries enough force to protect it. The empire is the reward. The monster is the engine.

Not eventually. Not when everyone else feels fine. First. Creativity dies the moment you place yourself last. Every time you say yes to something that drains you, your gift weakens. Every time you prioritize someone else’s urgency over your destiny, your vision dims. Every time you over-explain or over-give or over-apologize, you subtract from the intensity required to build your empire.

There is a difference between being selfless and being self-neglectful, and only one of those paths destroys you. Monsters understand something most creatives avoid. If you do not guard your energy, someone else will drain it. If you do not defend your boundaries, someone will violate them.

So be “selfish” enough to build the life you want. Be “selfish” enough to protect your gifts. Refuse crumbs when you are building a kingdom. You cannot uplift your audience, your family, or your community if you are spiritually dehydrated. Fill yourself first. Then overflow.

Creatives must stop thinking like artists and begin thinking like conquerors. Your creativity is not decoration. It is domination. Your ideas are not hobbies. They are artillery. Look at every empire throughout history: Rome, Ghana, Mali, Persia, America, and every modern digital empire from Apple to Tesla. Behind each one stood a person who refused to shrink, who refused to be ignored, and who refused to wait for permission.

They will underpay you, overwork you, and compliment your “passion” while pocketing the profits. You need systems, boundaries, rituals, and processes. You need a throne instead of a desk. You need a mission instead of a mood. You need strategy instead of vibes. Talent is beautiful. Strategy is what makes talent impossible to overlook.

There is also a part of you that you have been taught to hide. The intense part. The competitive part. The ambitious part. People told you this part of you was “too much.” They told you it was “aggressive” or “selfish.” So you dimmed it. Yet this dark side is your power source. Your anger, jealousy, frustration, competitiveness, and hunger are fuel. Stop trying to meditate your fire away.

Use the fire. Every legendary creative used their dark side as fuel: Kanye, Picasso, Frida, Prince, Baldwin, Basquiat, Nina Simone, Steve Jobs. Not one of them was harmless. They were not destructive monsters. They were monsters of potential. Their darkness was not a flaw. It was a resource. Control it. Do not kill it.

In the modern world, the most valuable currency is attention. Attention does not go to the quiet, the timid, or the polite. It goes to the bold. It goes to those willing to stand in the center of the room without apology. It goes to those who exist loudly and confidently. It goes to those who say, “I am here. I am doing this. You can get inspired or you can step aside.”

The creatives who win today are not the most talented. They are the ones who are impossible to ignore. They show up when scared. They share when insecure. They post when uncertain. They launch before they feel ready. They ask even when they fear rejection. They work while others sleep. If you cannot stomach visibility, you cannot handle victory. Monsters dominate the space, the craft, and the mission.

And never forget this truth: you are not merely building a brand. You are building a world. People do not follow you because you are talented. They follow you because you have created a world they want to enter. Your energy, perspective, mythology, values, rules, rhythm, and personality form a universe of your own. That is world-building. World-building requires strength, solitude, courage, and the willingness to stand apart and say, “I am building something different. You can join me or you can watch. I am moving either way.” Legacy is not built with softness. Legacy is built with fire.

There is a version of you the world has not yet met. A version that does not shrink. A version that does not wait. A version that does not apologize for its hunger. A version that leads and commands and becomes undeniable.

That version of you is a monster, not the kind that destroys, but the kind that builds. A monster who holds their vision like a weapon. A monster who protects their dreams with fierce devotion. A monster who knows that softness has a place, but never at the cost of destiny.

The world already has enough harmless people. What your mission needs is you at full power. So here is your declaration: I will no longer shrink. I will no longer wait. I will no longer apologize for my hunger. I will no longer silence my fire. I will become the monster, and I will aim it with precision.

Your creativity deserves teeth. Your ambition deserves protection. Your vision deserves a warrior. Be gentle when you choose. Be soft when it is safe. Be humble when it does not cost you. When it comes to your destiny, be the monster. Control it. And build your empire until the world has no choice except to rise in respect for the work you have created.

Now go build the kingdom,

Misfits & Nomads