Don't be like Durov

Durov recently gave an interview to Lex Fridman.
Honestly? I didn’t watch it. And I won’t.
Why? Everything I need to know has long been clear without those two hours of verbal gymnastics.

Durov is the perfect example of a 21st-century poser.
A hypocritical, Photoshopped character. A billionaire who pretends to live an “ascetic” lifestyle: walking barefoot and drinking water from a coconut. Yeah, right. The same “monk” who has a Telegram empire, offshore accounts, real estate, and a bunch of schemes where money spins faster than he can come up with new rules for “freedom of speech.”

He says one thing and does another.
Says he’s “against control” and “for privacy,” yet regularly bends to any government when that’s what it takes to protect the business. Remember when Telegram was blocked in Rashka? Loud proclamations that “we will not give in,” and a couple of years later he peacefully negotiates — and everything works again.
No revolution. Just an agreement.
Nothing personal — just business.

So here’s the question: why do people keep believing guys like him?
Because it’s convenient to believe in a “hero.”
It’s convenient to think there’s someone “like us” among the billionaires.
When in reality he’s playing you like kids, selling an image rather than the truth.

Want to be like Durov? Go ahead.
Just be prepared to spend your whole life wearing a mask.
Pretend. Lie beautifully. Act like you’re “special.”
And be miserable while doing it.

Now, pay attention.
If you’re reading this and right now getting offended on Durov’s behalf, it means he’s already bought you with his image, bought you like some whore.
You're his fan, his tool, and part of his success.
You look at his photos and think, "This is how I should be."
And at that moment, he's counting the money he got from you — for your subscription, for your attention, for your illusions.

Now let's remember Manson and his "don't try."
Here’s some honest advice.
Don’t try to be Durov. Don’t try to seem “great.”
Live. Enjoy yourself. Be yourself.

As I write this, I realize I’m writing about myself.
I’m constantly trying. I’m constantly playing roles.
And that’s probably why Durov irritates me:
he’s a mirror of what I’m afraid of in myself.