Arrogance annoys me. Because I only ever see this trait being displayed…by insecure people. It’s always obvious who’s in possession of it, because they’ll change everything about themselves…in order to sell the belief that they’re worth more…than they believe they are. A lack of self-esteem makes these souls easily manipulated. Since their value comes from whatever price someone else places over their existence. So they make perfect pawns…for anyone attempting to push narratives through them. Which is why most of those who have influence over our culture, are so easily bought…and sold to us. And we’re conditioned to hold their worth at face value. Even when that face…doesn’t come in its original packaging.

Arguments can be effective forms of communication. If…boundaries are set for how far hits below the belt can go. Mutual respect should be what sets the standard for this matrimony of menacing. But when pressure from people outside the union enter the chat, lapses in judgement can follow. Which is why the company we keep matters so much. The level of influence they have over our thought process, could be the determining factor for a fair fade…or a commitment killer. Ion like to listen though. So outside of my conscience…I’m not trying to be lectured on the lows I shouldn’t stoop to, when I’m in my feelings. Annnd the lines I’ve crossed lately……….have been honorable. Because I don’t want to break a heart, that can’t be replaced.

A while ago, I realized this project is equivalent to a Venus fly trap. Since it’s content attracts the type of souls…who don’t know they’re prey. When I first started writing, I couldn’t reconcile the fact that it felt like I was helping teach those who target souls like mine…how to target souls like mine. And no matter how much I opposed it, God would remind me that my purpose is to use my way with words…to prepare like minds…on how to navigate narcissists. Which inadvertently draws in those, who’d want me indefinitely silenced. I made peace with this paradox, once I realized the energies who desperately need a hit off mine…are my way out of the karmic debt I owe. Because they force me to do the shadow work required…in order to teach those coming behind me…truth.

The influence being cast over our culture’s youth, makes it harder for light to penetrate pineal glands. Humans have graduated into a shapeshifting society. So nothing is what it appears to be. Logic suggests the onus falls on the shoulders of the ‘celebrities’ who get paid, to peddle poison into these impressionable minds. But…the call is coming from inside the house. Because closed minds…close minds. And if a child isn’t receiving guidance from the director that God designated to open theirs…they’ll audition anyone to fill this role. Even if it comes at the expense of the soul…that they aren’t aware is intentionally being sacrificed…by a system set up to disconnect its connection…to its Creator.

I’m old..er than I used to be. So I remember watching shows with the kind of hidden meanings…that didn’t program the youth into signing off on self-destruction. A lot of the scripts had spirituality written into them. And most discretely taught about the power that comes with 5D abilities. Which is a hard concept as an adult. Because I thought this power would give me unwavering strength. But over the years, I’ve been forced to accept that sometimes strength…is the ability to display range…by having the power to pretend to be weak. Gifted souls come with gangs of goofies…whose only super power…is convincing us we have none. So playing into that narrative, long enough for time to reveal the truth…activates authentic arcs.

I’m almost as spiritual as it gets. So I see the connection I’m currently in…with a different eye. I’ve briefly spoken about the twin flame journey that I’ve been on, for the last couple years. Which has been the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me. The good comes from the heights it’s taken my telepathic gifts…that were lying dormant before we linked. The bad came after seeing how far our old hoes will go, to hijack what’s being built. A bond like this isn’t for the weak. Because it exposes the parts of our souls that need to be healed, in order for us to fully stand in our purpose. This, unfortunately, breeds the type of tension that invites us to take flight…on our emotionally terroristic temptations.

Warring with enemy-esque energies is a form of entertainment…that I’m trying to lay to rest. Because it forces me to acknowledge people who would literally be dead to me…if I was mature enough to take the high road. The growth I desire…encourages me to ignore all provocation. The growth I’ve acquired…follows ‘lay where you play’ logic. And my lived reality suggests both options…eventually lead to death. We either allow our voice to die, from our refusal to use it. Or, we kill off our humility…by forcing our voice to be heard. Peace isn’t found in either. So I found my balance in between. This allows me to say just enough, to guide souls into graves they dig for me. But not enough to fall in behind them.

My life is a series of unexplainable events. So I didn’t really notice how nonchalantly I approached the topic of the weirdo from last weekend…until I realized this isn’t normal for most people. I keep saying it feels like I’m a part of a targeting program. And that guy is another reason I feel this way. Energies like his, seem obsessed with getting me to buy into the type of psychosis…that leads to the type of crash (out)…I can’t come back from. But the only return on investment I’d receive…are shares of Baker Acts. Which is why I waited months…before giving the reaction I gave. My diSoRDeR is supposed to make me the perfect target for these energetic trades. My gift guides me now though…so I always calculate the risk first.

Finding balance in relationships, after the foundation has been compromised, feels like Mortal Kombat. Since the fight against the pettiness of human emotion is required…to avoid frontal lobe fatalities. I’m usually the one who cracks code first. And I attract souls, who excel in their ability to mirror these glitches…that can be fixed…but not forgotten. Reassigning the responsibility of bonding the divide back together, was always my out. Because it diverted attention away from the web, designed by my dysfunction. Common sense says, this is my way of simulating an escape from accountability. So I started spinning blocks to play savior. Just to be shown how useless this act is…if my crack addiction…is still present.

I’m sarcastic…to a fault. And most of the time, I’m oblivious to how my brand of humor can translate as insensitive. As an empath, I cringe at the thought of inducing hurt feelings. As a Gemini…feelings get hurt everyday B. Which is why I’m grateful for the people in my life, who spell check me…when the edges of my unconditional love for living unedited…are too rough. Because the words I speak can cast the type of illusions over some souls…that could change how they perceive themselves. This is no different than actual spell work, because the end result is a mind being altered. I’m usually the first to pick apart my word’s work. Unfortunately, when I’m too comfortable with the receiver…I can get carried away with the delivery. So…I’m fine tuning my freehand…again.

I’ve never understood why people use the phrase “a hit dog’ll holler’…condescendingly. Cause what dog do you know…that doesn’t follow its natural instinct…to put you on notice? But I do understand that some dogs holler, unprovoked, just to feed their addiction…to the attention that comes with it. So I do my best to stay away from strung out strays. Being touched is their desired distraction, from all the shadow work needed…to heal from constantly being overlooked. In situations like these, my attention can foster a false sense of hope. And…ion like leading b!tches on. Unfortunately, my ego hasn’t fully learned…that heeling after a hit, instead of hollering, is more beneficial…when dealing with these off brand breeds.

Having an addictive personality used to be a trait of mine, that I politely excused away. Until I started attracting other mentally imbalanced minds, that mimicked my mania. Which is why I need God to send me mirrors of myself…to this day. If I didn’t see how I look, draped down in guttersnipe garments…I’d never change. This past weekend, I must’ve been out in this fit. Because I was on the receiving end of unwanted attention…from someone who keeps trying to get mine. Even though I’ve never…ever…given any indication that feelings are mutual. I spazzed. The law got involved. And now I’m trying to figure out how covering myself head to toe in ignorance…can still be equated to interest. “Whew chile, the…”.

I usually think too highly of the people who lower my vibration. And the blinders that comes with this bias, baits me into getting caught…off guard. I bought into the belief of reciprocity, until I finally accepted who I was dealing with. Then, I figured out I could recoup some of what I had put in… by calling my energy back to me. But it was only so many times God allowed my recklessness to be redeemed, before requiring me to learn how to recognize patterns. So I focused, and saw the tactic used…was tongue tussle triggers…that always took place…around moon cycles. Engaging just locks me into a verbal contract…that gives permission to entities, who need to trap me into that toxicity…in order to feed off my essence.

I’ve never had the privilege of being told about myself…from someone who wasn’t avenging feelings that I hurt. And when correction comes from a place of pain…the intention is usually to induce more. Unfortunately, most people avoid telling me how they see me…unprovoked…out of fear that I’ll return the favor. So, I was stuck poking passive aggressives. The hope was for their words to make me reconsider my proximity to progress…by seeing behind any curtains that may be closed to my conscience. But all their squaking did…was reaffirm my desire to stick to the script I’m reading from. Because no one showed me anything that my shadow work hasn’t exposed. Which is slightly embarrassing. Since the people I provoked…went to such great heights…to humble me.

Flowing through the stages of my healing, requires a lot of patience. Because my progression keeps being threatened…by my predatory instincts. Writing is my therapist. But when I first started, I wasn’t tapped into the sense God gave me. So I’d use my ink to prey on the peace of others. Penning other people’s problems was easier, because it took my mind off the fear of facing my own demons. And the comparisons that came from me dissecting someone else’s reality…used to give me a sense of power. Which was so intoxicating, that I developed an addiction to consuming spirits. This left me inebriated with the kind of entitlement…that tricked me into believing I had every right to gain my confidence…off of diminishing someone else’s.

Ignoring our trauma, brands our backs with weakness. And this soft spot can only be seen…by those who target the type of disadvantage it puts us at. The energies drawn to our dysfunction, belong to souls that benefit from its presence. They’re unable to heal their own trauma. So they attach themselves to energies that can…but lack the discipline to follow through. They know our ability to heal, is the gift God gives those…who have callings over their lives. Succubus souls don’t get these calls…so they dress their red flags up as everything that’ll appeal to your lower self. With the hopes that you’ll lock in and waste time distracting yourself…tryna hit. If they’re successful…they win. Because their only goal was to hide their horns long enough, to lead you away from healing…and into your own personal hell.

There’s not a lot of things that irritate me more, than drivers who are constantly tapping on their brakes. Even when a yacht could fit between them…and the car before them. I was bored earlier, so I asked myself ‘why this annoys me so much?’ And…it’s because it reflects the type of overcorrections I make, when I’m uncomfortable. I either do way too much, to find my way back to balance. Or…nothing at all. Never in between. I’m feeling emotional discomfort right now and…I’ve been trying to imagine what a middle ground looks like. Because my default response was to freeze all feelings. Unfortunately, that just stalls the amount of time it’ll take…for me to release my foot from off the neck…of someone who wants me pressed.

Digging down deep into my dysfunction…is a side hustle I prophet from. It’s been showing me the roots of curses, that none of my eLdERs have been able to break from off our bloodline. Which wouldn’t be possible, if I wasn’t receiving guidance from actual elders: my Ancestors. When I was younger, I was taught that seeking out connections with past overs…was sorcery. But no one could ever explain why this belief never extended…to the main character of the Bible. So the older I got, the more I gravitated towards connecting with my history. Because they pay me through pain…produced from real growth. And the only way to access it, is through staying rooted in reality…and doing the shadow work. “Grab your torch and pitchforks.”

I never know who’s in my energy, until God shows me proof that I knew something about them…before it was humanly possible. I used to be surprised every time this happened. Now, I accept it’s just a side effect of the same gift…that got me diagnosed as biPoLaR. Acclimating to this acceptance used to keep me suspended in thin air…waiting for the claims of my insanity to drop. Because the people I used to unknowingly read…always found ways to convince me that I didn’t know what I was talking about…right after they saw that I did. But even though my overall experience with speaking the truth too soon has been trash…it keeps me rubbing shoulders…with souls who can relate. Which would be a breath of fresh air…if I didn’t know…

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this happy. — Is food involved? Of course nnnnnn. The half dozen blue crabs I just ate was orgas…euphor…nostalgic. It’s my favorite thing to eat but…it’s been 10 years since I cracked. And after my outer body experience, the first thought I had was to text twin the location because…it’s her favorite food too. Thankfully, I’m a big girl now. So I wasn’t waiting for the reply that I never received. Her silence just helped validate the alignment I’ve finally achieved because…I felt no ways. Which gave me a sense of satisfaction and shame. Because it’s normal to want to share stuff like this with a sister. But abnormal to willfully accept that the person I shared a womb with…no longer fits into my life.