The Power of Self-Control (And Why Control Freaks Are Weak)

It’s funny how the people who are most obsessed with controlling others are the ones who can’t even control themselves. They bark orders, micromanage, manipulate, demand loyalty — but they can’t stop lying, can’t stop drinking, can’t stop cheating.

That’s the paradox: if you really have self-control, you don’t feel the need to control anyone else... and, you probably wouldn't be reading this right now.

Self-Control vs. Control

Self-control is internal. It’s the ability to sit with discomfort without making it someone else’s problem. It’s knowing when to speak, when to shut up, and when to walk away.

Controlling others is external. It’s trying to bend the world so you don’t have to bend yourself. It’s fragile. It’s desperate. And it always cracks, because people aren’t puppets.

Comedy Is the Proof

Stand-up is the ultimate self-control experiment. You can’t control the audience. You can’t control the laughs. You can only control yourself: your timing, your delivery, your perspective.

The insecure comic gaslights, blames the crowd, panics when it’s not going their way. The comic with self-control? They ride it. They own their space. They don’t need to force the laugh — they earn it.

Why Control Freaks Fail

Here’s the truth about control freaks: they’re weak. They’re scared. They can’t handle their own impulses, so they try to manage everyone else’s. It’s like being a terrible driver but insisting on taking the wheel every time. Nobody feels safe, and eventually everyone gets out of the car.

The Punchline

When you have self-control, you don’t need to dominate a room to feel powerful. You don’t need to manipulate to feel important. You don’t need to build a cult to feel secure.

You just show up as yourself. And if that’s not enough? At least you can sleep at night knowing you didn’t waste your life trying to play God when you could barely play human.

And all you have to do is have some self-control.

Leave me alone — and poof, I disappear from your life faster than a tourist who just realized they booked the wrong comedy club on Khao San Road.

It’s that easy. Just self-control. Or self-inflicted wounds.

But I get it — asking a control freak for self-control is like asking a fat man in a Hawaiian shirt to write a new joke.

Still, the offer’s on the table: let go, and I’m gone. Forever. I'm not in your life, you're in mine, and it's getting kinda creepy.

I'd drop the mic but you already took all of them.

— FunwithLex