I wasn’t born powerful. I didn’t grow up confident. I didn’t wake up one day with a body or a mindset that turned heads. I built it — the hard way.
My life, like most people’s, started in chaos. Doubt. Pressure. Expectations from people who never truly understood me. I was told what I couldn’t do, what I would never be, and where my limits were.
But something inside me refused to accept that story. So I started writing my own.
I changed my body first. One rep at a time. One early morning, one late night, one session where nobody clapped, nobody watched, and nobody cared. I studied, I trained, I failed, and I repeated the process until the mirror started to show someone new.
Then I changed my mind. I stopped letting the past control the present. I stopped listening to people who had never been where I wanted to go. I stopped living like a passenger and started living like the driver.
Lucifer isn’t a costume I put on. He’s the result of every decision I made when nobody was watching. Every time I chose discipline over comfort. Every time I refused to quit.
This is what Lucifer’s Labyrinth is — a path. A system. A reminder that whoever you were before doesn’t have to be who you die as. You can become who you should have been.