🍽️ Solo Feast Doctrine
Bear Blog Edition
They get mad like I owe 'em friendship. Like just being nearby meant they were part of the climb. Like their shadow deserved a seat at the table I built dolo, scraping heat from cold nights and flavor from silence.
Let me be clear:
I’ve been running dolo all my life. If you didn’t carry wood or bring meat, don’t expect a place near my fire.
I don’t break bread with spectators. I don’t pour drinks for freeloaders. And I damn sure don’t offer seconds to folks who never brought a damn dish.
People talk about “why you so distant?” Because I had to survive off scraps while they played pretty. Because I don’t forget who showed up with empty hands but full opinions.
I’m not lonely. I’m self-fed.
You want a seat? Bring heat. Bring hunger. Bring something worth cooking. Otherwise, I hope your pride tastes good— 'cause that’s all you’ll be chewing on.
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