My mental maturity only makes sense…when I’m not experiencing situations where my immaturity makes more. And for the last couple weeks…I’ve been tempted to toddler. This temptation was coming from a connection that tried to enforce a level of flexibility on me…that I’ll never be comfortable with. So I’ve been avoiding addressing the issue because…I’m tired of tumbling. The back and forth usually forces me to “hard rock” my way through conversations. Instead of showing up as the polished “gem” that my life’s pressure already cultivated. Which was the underlying issue. Because the longer I engaged this energy…the harder it felt I had to become.

Being a productive member of society is important to me. So…I go out my way to volunteer my opinion as often as possible. Because my intrusive advice is usually the first experience most have…with someone who disrespectfully digs into their soul’s soil…in order to raise it to the perfect position…to be catapulted towards its desired path. And even though no one asks me what I think about their situation…ever…I still feel morally obligated to pour in my input. Which is why this blog is so therapeutic for me. I get to write about my mind altering experiences…in ways that subliminally shows the readers of my words…how to course correct. Is this my ego tal—-I’m not taking any questions today.

I don’t like the idea of teaching children to respect disrespectful adults. So I encourage emotional equality. My niece is innately respectful. But her freedom of expression has one of her passive aggressive teachers, bothered asf right now. And the feedback forced me to jump the chain of command and reach out directly. My call was ignored. Which led to some texts being sent, that were forwarded to the principal…and addressed with my little sister. I almost felt like the mentally unhinged one…for attempting to address a grown child’s attempts at bullying an actual child into submission. Until the urge to buy my niece a gift…for learning early to disturb demons, took over. Then, I understood that I’ll never have the right mindset for motherhood.

I still have a habit of making people believe they’re more important to me, than they actually are. Most of my behavior is genuine, because I like to feel the fullness of any emotion I have for someone. The embellished parts come from a need to overcompensate…for confidence that I sense the other soul may be lacking. So, I lightly love bomb…to blow up egos that appear deflated. Which worked for me. Until I started noticing how toxic this approach is, for the other person, when I walk away. Because my refusal to detonate when we detach, can lead to obsessive behavior…in people who crave a conclusion of crash outs…to substantiate the value of the connection. But…I’ve never met anyone worth pushing that button for.

People who can’t be happy for someone else receiving what they never had…irritate me. In most situations…this trait is inherited from ‘woulda, coulda, shoulda’ parental figures. And their frustration from never reaching a fullness of potential…leads to seed sabotage. So poor examples are set, guidance is withheld, and bad behavior is encouraged. This is a form of mental magick…because it casts illusions over the perception of those too innocent to know any better. Some parents are genuinely lost souls, who don’t realize the toxic pathologies they’re projecting onto their offspring. But others purposely curse consciouses. Because their egos can’t see a world, where their descendants accomplish what they couldn’t.

Who I like…changes conversations. Because I can experience the same toxicity from two different people, and intentionally interpret it completely different…depending on how I feel about them. If I like you…I give grace. If I don’t…I give grief. I used to think this bias benefited me in my relationships. But it was actually setting me up to be door matted. My natural instinct, with dislikeables, is to wave my red flags around…with hopes of deading any possibility of forward movement. The opposite is true for the bull sh*tters that I ground myself for though. I always end up employing an endless amount of excuses for their reds. Until my true nature takes over…and pineal piercings become my only option.

I had a boy toy that I used to enjoy playing with. He took my mind off of adulting and…I needed that. Under normal circumstances…my toy collection remains private. But the mindset of his previous owner…resembles the antique doll Gabby Gabby, from Toy Story 4. And her need to be loved, by anyone but self, birthed an inability to let go of him…and anyone he’s attached to. Ion even have this toy anymore…but she’s still fixated on feeling seen by me. Which means her obsession was never with the toy I had. It was with getting my attention. Even though she was rehoemed by a soul that mirrors hers…and comes with more toys than the one she lost.

I can’t figure out how I identify as an imposter…but still find time to think so highly of myself. Displaying the depths of my self-love always seems to attract crab cakes. So I think I learned to play coy, to curb bottom feeder behavior. But…that mindset doesn’t inspire my inner child. It diminishes the innate desire we have to show up authentically and…ew. Now, my resistance has me working towards merging my mentalities, in a way that gives muse…instead of meek. And this inner work is producing organic streams of unwavering self-confidence. Broadcasting it is my new form of entertainment. Because it causes towers to fall in the minds of diss jockeys...who tried gaslighting me into emitting radio silence.

I don’t get any pleasure from pretending to like politics. But lately I’ve been drawn to it. Because it’s mirroring the spiritual experience that I’ve been having with my ‘family’. The optics make me feel like there’s an energetic shift happening. Which is increasing power in those who’ve been forced to play humble…and depleting it in those who actively abuse it. Abuse that usually goes unchecked, until those who’re rarely held accountable for their inconsideration…are trapped inside the receiving end of it. And it will always, only, ever require that one…to set records ‘Strait’ with the action…of shutting sh*t down. Moments like this feel like Divine Intervention, meant to remind the prideful…that no one is bigger than the program.

I commit to my commitments because…I take commitment seriously. I’ve been given a lot of reasons to release the idea that reciprocation will always be received. And I’d probably let go…if I wasn’t so dedicated to my delusion. Atp, my only loyalty is to myself. So the bar of doubt is being set by couples, who showcase how flaky their connection is. In these toxic tethers, the energy that the masculines embody…give bachelor. But the ring on the fingers of their trophies suggest vows, bound by fidelity, have been made. What’s wild is how this hypocrisy is silently encouraged in our culture. Instead of being openly condemned. Strictly off the strength of the old adage, that a man’s word…is all he has.

I needed a minute. I’ve gotten good at transmuting my ‘familial’ toxicity. But too much of it, all at once, requires me to rabbit hole…until I get dug out. I figured a crash out was on its way to me. Because I could feel the lore of my mania, seducing me with its forbiddenness. And as much as I enjoy the chaos we create…I always start self-sabotaging whenever I give in. Which eventually leads to me quitting on people, places and projects. So disconnecting from virtual reality was needed…to make sense of my actual presence. Fortunately, my absence was intentionally reflected back to me…by someone whose energy I’ve developed an addiction to. Which forced me to feel every inch…of the consequences that come with ghosting my goals.

It’s taken me a long time to remember who I am. In the time that I spent wandering…I met a few people who were able to capitalize off of my absent mindedness. I valued these connections more than I should’ve, because I needed to feel like I had something worth holding onto. Which left me emotionally Scar’d. And it taught me that I’ll believe a lie before the truth…when I’m desperate for affection. God knew this before I did. So He sent me people who I’d either allow to break me…or who I’d use as building blocks. But pain was my love language, so I chose what broke me. Which eventually helped me let go of my pride…and rebuild my peace.

Everything in this world is backwards. Which makes accepting reality…hard to do. Especially when dating is concerned. Because most souls profess to want emotionally stable connections. But the toxicity we possess…poisons the partnerships we attract. These toxins encourage women to leash cravings for commitment, while the dawg we desire...roams the streets. And it seduces men into sacrificing lifetime love…for one night only’s. My love for leash lash outs led to me attracting a Bully. Who only considers my feelings…after he tries to hoe me. Is hE jUSt miRrORiNg mY bAd bEHaViOr bAcK tO mE?! Victim blaming is…unacceptable.

The pressure to present as socially acceptable is intensifying. We get inundated with ‘ideal’ imagery on a daily basis. But these images usually don’t reflect reality. Which has led to a culture full of table dancers, whose current facial features and physiques…are man made. This form of glamour magic is meant to cloud perception. And the youth usually can’t tell the difference. So they fall for facades…that subconsciously condition them to cookie cut, as a means of building counterfeit confidence. Once shapes have been shifted…access usually follows. Because this world sends out open invites for acts of assimilation…that undermine organic displays of self-esteem.

I don’t think my BM took reproduction seriously…like me. I honestly feel like she thought she’d birth a bunch of minion mirrors. And that was true, until she had a martian that looked nothing like her…mentally. When I was younger, I didn’t know the emotional effect this lack of resemblance would have on my psyche. But the older I got…the more I realized that inheriting confidence, from a woman who resembles what this world considers beautiful, was impossible. Because our reflections were night and day. I did my best to blend in like the rest of my siblings, by cosplaying her characteristic traits…but that just led to dissociation. Which left me feeling like an alien…trapped in spaces…with domestic terrorists.

My peace is still disturbing tf out of my twin sister. Oops. I unintentionally predicted a petty post that showed up on my timeline the other day. And my decision to put the receipt in the chat…provoked her to project more of her truth…onto me. Now, she’s accusing me of having an entity attached to me…that’s responsible for how I’ve been acting. Even though she spent the last 4 years blaming my spiritual inclinations on my biPoLaR diSOrDeR. I asked her to give ONE example of her doing what I do. But that led to links being sent…of videos explaining spiritual attachments. Which is better than the articles she used to send, about the connection between spiritual psychosis and bipolarism. So, it’s the baby steps for me.

I’m annoyed. But we’re in full moon energy, so I can’t spazz in the chat like I want to because…that’s what they want. The frustration I feel came after I made the mistake of holding myself accountable, for energetically offending my niece. Unfortunately, I made the mistake…of correcting my mistake…in front of my wombmate. Who’s violently allergic to righting wrongs. In the past, she’s been able to make me look crazy asf…for practicing the art of speaking spiritually. Now, I realize that using my native tongue…gives me the ability to speak life into conversations, that could kill growth. So she’s resorted to trying to convince my niece that this language I’ve been teaching her…is “sChiZOpHrENia” speaking.

I tried but…my pARaNoiA sent me back to the Gang Goofy chat. I text about my childhood memory being non-existent…but told them about a vivid memory I have, of finding VHS tapes with me and my twin on them as kids. My BM was never the sentimental recording type, so I remember asking about them. And she told me she was trying to get us on commercials. Which made sense, until I watched Candace Owens speak on Charlie Kirk having gifts…that led to him being studied as a child. So…all I did…was emphatically insinuate that the tapes I found were a part of some kind of study. Which prompted my twin to try and develop an image of my mental malnourishment. But her memory of being approached about doing a twin study, in elementary school, is what ended up being revealed.