I have a hard time admitting when I’m mANiC. Because…I don’t think I’m bipolar. It’s never mattered how much proof my behavior produces. Since the people who point it out, are usually hurt hoe’ing their way through a reaction they earned. But after my investor group overreaction yesterday, I’m floating around the understanding…that my pride won’t let me be outdone…when it comes to doing the most. So even though I’m desperately wanting to blame my reasonably rational responses, on those who instigate my irrationality…I won’t. I’ll just accept that these grown girl tendencies still have me in a chokehold…because I’m still willfully attempting to reason with adult children.

New moon ritual loading»»»» Last week my twin attempted to incite my mania, by volunteering a lie about me to the chat…that my indexed screenshots (from 2022) exposed. And today, my leasing office is lying about whether they asked the newest hall monitor to reposition her surveillance device…so it’s not capturing the spot I walk, to enter/leave my space. I pointed out the pattern of a new camera popping up, every time a tenant with one facing my door moves out. In response, I was offered gaslighting…and rhetoric that suggests these tenants have all signed NDA’s. What makes the lie so sickening, is the fact that they just told me to rEpoRT my concerns of gangstalking to the police. Even though they’re actively withholding the information I need to support it.

Attention is the kind of drug that certain souls sell their eternities for. The concept of outsourcing something you can supply yourself with…in exchange for a product that can’t be reproduced…confuses tf out of me. But for people who can’t see past filling a void of validation…being paid in attention is a success story. Because that attention can bring affluence…depending on the purity of what’s purchased. And the purer the soul sold…the more demonic they must become…in order to keep eyes, they didn’t earn, on them. Eventually, the price of doing business costs more than what it’s worth. So the soulless turn into liabilities, who lose their ability to get high…off their quest to inherit the world…(’s) gaze.

Emotionally unbalanced men scare me. Because as soon as they get in their feelings, they reign down any business they believe belongs to you…into the ears of anyone who’ll listen. IMO, this is a trauma response that’s triggered from an inability to air out the mother… who gave them a childhood they haven’t healed from. So any woman that cRoSsEs them, produces an environment for them to act out that pain…in Oscar weiner performances. Which includes a lot of yapping. Since this is the only time they get to use their voice to challenge the archetype…of their abuser. Their goal is usually to pacify an ego that’s been bruised. And because these men lack emotional maturity, they rage bait through bullying. With the hope of transferring their trauma…onto their target

I hate how hard it is to tell the truth to younger generations. But when I look at the accountability avoidant adults who raised them…I get it. The subject of baby binding is the loud part that’s been forced to be whispered. Because some women refuse to believe that there are SOME ‘males’ who want you bound…to avoid giving up their freedom. And that realization usually doesn’t kick in, until after birth. The best guidance I ever received from my former favorite cousin…was when he told me boys use babies as routes to ringless revolving doors. Since “a woman will always want that family unit.”. I still almost got locked into a lie a few times though; because the truth used to feel like the trap to me.

I go out of my way to avoid aggravation. But that’s damn near impossible to do in intimate relationships. Since you have to deal with every aspect of a person’s psyche…in order to experience the full potential of the connection. And this is where I find my issue. Because I have this weird fixation for men…with F#ck Boy Intelligence. Mindsets like these are easily agitated by accountability. So their logic convinces them to seek out souls who refuse to hold them responsible for their behavior. Healing helps curb cravings of getting locked into cOmiTTmEnt with these avoidants. If you get caught lacking though, life…in the feds…is your fated future.

I’ve been a sapiosexual for forever. Wit…is my stimulant. Which is why I gravitate towards people who know how to play with words. The ability to stack sentences with multiple meanings, challenges my ability to conceive. And that’s been my birth control for a while, because it allows me to feel…without being felt. I had a roster of go tos…that I could always count on to put work in. But my inability to pick one psychological penetrator…almost got me caught up. Because I wasn’t paying attention to how my energy was being stretched out…by all the different ones attached to the words being poured into me. So now I’m thinking about going half, on one on one lessons…with a teacher who’s peaked at putting pineals in the perfect positions.

Spiritual beings fall into different groups, like most societies, called collectives. There’s a divine collective…and a karmic one. I feel like I’m the former…who embodies traits of the latter. Which is why I’ve been shadow working for so long. On this journey, I’ve watched a few intuitive readers online. And it wasn’t until a few days ago, that I grasped the concept of karmic readers…who read for the karmic collective. Their ability to copy cat traits of divine fem/masc…allows them to cosplay. So if you don’t have discernment, you’ll fall for the illusion intentionally being presented. Shadow work is the only thing that separates these two groups. Those with callings, pay the price of this process. Those who pretend…pass their payment off to someone else.

It’s some souls struggling right now. Because the sheep they thought they were about to eat off…is in God’s hands. I’m genuinely confused when I come across spirits who profess to be highly favored…but have all the traits of someone who requires lower level assistance…in order to make their ends meet. And now that their behavior is beginning to reflect desperation, it’s becoming obnoxiously obvious who is who. Which is also confusing…if I’m supposed to be believing they have the upHer hand. When I first brought my sh!t show online…I don’t think I really grasped how deep my rabbit hole of reflection would take me. But the more work I do on myself, the clearer those who profit from puppeteering my psyche into psychosis become.

I know something I’m not supposed to. So…I can’t tell anybody. I’m usually good at keeping what I know to myself. But this is the type of secret that has me seeking the kind of answers that the person can’t give me…because I can’t tell them I know what I know. Which is forcing me to miNd mY bUSiNeSs. Everything in me wants to hit my manic button. Just to have an excuse to say a bunch of sh!t I can’t take back. Instead, I’m choosing to accept what I can’t change. I can’t change the fact that people look for ways to hide what can easily be seen…by a seer. And I can’t change the spiritual laws I’m bound by…that prevent me from interrupting someone else’s fate…with my feelings.

I have a history of being scandalous…that used to give me a sense of pride. Because I always wrote my behavior off as an appropriate reaction…to someone else’s actions. Until I started attracting the same scenarios, I carelessly constructed for other people. My best work was done when my ability to play judge and juror was present. And if this opportunity was presented by someone who had previously ignored advice given by me…my “I told you so’s“ were intentionally unbearable. This past new moon, I was handed the chance to chitlin’ chat. But after writing out all my ‘b!tch you thoughts’…I rewrote history. Which shows me that I’ve finally hit the goal I set…to shame less than I salute.

We all know the saying ‘you can tell who a person is…by how they act when they think no one’s watching’. Well my neighbors don’t subscribe to that sentiment. They prefer for me to know they’re watching me…in 4k. GirlNextDoor introduced my newest weirdo watcher, but I only previewed a paragraph. I paywalled the part where I wrote how I’d know if she’s part of the gang…if I saw a camera go up. And today…I saw the camera. Atp, I’m tired of pretending I’m not a big deal. Cause it just gets to a point, where these patterns of pressedness can’t keep being written off as coincidences. I know the common consensus would be for me to move. But…this literally happens everywhere I go.

The only thing I love more than getting the last laugh…is getting it off someone who thought the joke was on me. My diagnosis has me doing my best to remain humble. But…its hard. Since I can’t stop running circles around every single person who has ever had anything to say…about what I have going. And because these energies deal in plausible deniability…I’ve had to be strategic with how I play in their face. My technique was derived from the same Orcas we’ve been conditioned to see as helpless…as head cases. Even though they’re relentless hunters, who play with their food before they eat it. So I’ve basically been able to avoid psych ward suggestions…by emulating ‘killers’.

I finally graduated to the understanding that I’m the reason my ‘family’ doesn’t talk to me. But…you still can’t convince me I’m the problem. My God given makes it impossible for me not to see through people. My refusal to waste it makes it impossible not to share what I see…if you need that. The checks I write are dependent on approach. And my charitable contributions always come with a gift tax, if I fund…while in my feelings. I could never figure out how to stay below the threshold needed…to write off my BM and her harem. Which had me paying forward words that showed them how little I value ‘family’…if the cost is biting my tongue…in order for them to continue cosplaying our cultural curses comfortably.

Our culture is full of natural Sarah Baartman shapes. But because the synthetic version is now being exploited by our own…girls, who haven’t grasped the concept of confidence yet, are altering their bodies in ways that call in a fun gworl future. Since transforming into the twin of a trans showgirl, with unnaturally exaggerated features, labels you as entertainment only…to the same men whose praise you’re coming center stage for. What’s wild is these modifications are taking the place of self-esteem. So even after you get the eyes you want on you…you’ll have nothing of substance to offer, if you haven’t done the internal work needed…to engage on levels beneath the surface.

I got a new neighbor…who’s already showing signs of gang goofy affiliation. Normally, I take time before passing judgement. But today she followed busting through her balcony doors, while I was getting groceries out my car…with timing her hallway exit to match my entrance…1 minute later. Leaving us no other option, but to cross paths…inorganically. Which reflects the same attention seeking…that always comes with my gang stalkers. I clearly can’t say if this is rEaLiTy. Because most of my neighbors are naturally annoying. All I know is, it’s adding to the list of reasons I’ve developed this addiction to avoidance. If for no other reason than to bypass being seen…by people who go out their way to be seen by me.

The gworls were fighting. And the imagery showcased…felt spiritual. I found Claressa Shields by way of her relationship drama. But what I chose to focus on during the fight…was what was being promoted inside the ring. At her center, Claressa endorsed familial legacy and talent that goes against instant gratification. While her opponent promoted a pay for play corn site across her heart chakra…and ‘glamour’ (magik) across her sacral. Which is the Pushing P(rostitution) propaganda, encouraging girls to rely on brainless branding. Just to earn quick coins, that ultimately sacrifices their future. So the irony of the woman influencing minds to gravitate towards this guttersnipe grift, eating hooks she was baited into falling for…was knot lost on me.