Fuck the System, I’m Building My Own

They never wanted me to win. Let’s start there.

From the very beginning, the world told me to fall in line, play by their rules, and accept my place. But their rules were never made for someone like me. Their system wasn’t designed to support a gay kid abandoned at 16, left to fend for himself with nothing but raw ambition and an unrelenting rage to prove them wrong. Their system was designed to erase people like me, to keep us silent, to make sure we disappear into the margins of society—invisible, forgotten.

But I’m still here. And I’m not just surviving. I’m building my own fucking empire.

I remember the exact moment I decided to say, “fuck the system.” I was sitting on the floor of a cold, empty room in the small town of Kichevo, North Macedonia where my grandparents live, the kind of emptiness that doesn’t just surround you but consumes you. My family had made their decision. I was no longer their son. My gayness—a part of me I had no choice but to embrace—was too much for them to handle. And in that moment, I realized I had a choice: crumble under the weight of their rejection, or rise like the phoenix I’d always known I was destined to become.

Choosing to rise wasn’t easy—especially after 7 years of all kinds of bullying I’ve experienced even before I knew who I truly was . The system wasn’t built to catch me. It didn’t care if I ate, if I had a roof over my head, if I made it to 17. But here’s the thing: I didn’t need their system. I refused to let their neglect define me. If they wanted me invisible, I would make myself unforgettable. If they wanted me silent, I would make sure my voice echoed louder than ever. If they wanted me to fail, I would succeed in ways they couldn’t even fathom. I applied to UWC with nothing but sheer audacity and the kind of desperation that turns into determination. I didn’t have the resources or the support that other applicants did. What I had was rage. What I had was something to prove. And when I got that acceptance letter, it wasn’t just a win—it was a declaration of war against every system, every person, every institution that ever doubted me. UWC wasn’t just an escape; it was the first place where I realized the power of my story. It was where I learned that my voice didn’t have to be small, that my gayness didn’t have to be hidden, that my pain could be turned into power. It was the beginning of something bigger than myself.

Fast forward to now, and that same fire still burns inside me. It’s the fire that built Slayhood, not just as a platform but as a revolution. Slayhood isn’t just about me. It’s about creating a space where people like me can exist without apology. It’s about amplifying voices that the system tried to silence. It’s about proving that we don’t just survive—we thrive. And when we thrive, we do it loudly. This isn’t just about building a blog or a brand. This is about rewriting the narrative. For every time they said “no,” I created my own “yes.” For every time they shut a door, I broke a window. For every time they tried to erase me, I made sure my name was etched in bold letters across the world.

So, to the system that tried to erase me: fuck you. You don’t define me. You never did. You’re the reason I’m here, louder, prouder, and more unstoppable than ever. And to anyone who feels like they’re being crushed under the weight of a system that wasn’t built for them, hear this: You don’t need their approval. You don’t need their rules. Burn it all down and build something that’s entirely your own. The world is yours to claim—you just have to take it.

“You’re not alone. I see you, I believe in you, and I’m here for you. They wanted us to disappear, but we’re still here—louder, stronger, and more unstoppable than ever. This isn’t just my fight; it’s ours. Slayhood is building community forums where your voice will matter, where your story will be heard, and where we’ll stand together. We’re not letting them win again. Now, you have Emrah Jusufoski protecting your back. And trust me, nobody wants to mess with me now. This is your sign to keep fighting, to keep pushing, and to know that you’re destined for greatness. The world tried to bury us, but they didn’t realize we were seeds.”

This is only the beginning. I’m not stopping until everyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong knows they can do the same. This empire I’m building? It’s for all of us. And it’s just getting started.