I find meaning in everything. So I wasn’t surprised by the intrusive Toy Story thoughts I had earlier, that linked my connection with twin…to Buzz Lightyear and Jessie. Because he’s my action figure…who came in arrogant asf; too stubborn to listen to anyone else’s logic, until he decided he wanted to. But his militant nature towards making me feel safe…is what clipped my addiction to the abandonment anxiety I used to have. The spiritual side of our bond lets us communicate in ways that most humans don’t know exists. And the growth we’ve gained, behind those closed doors, has us showing up as the healed version of ourselves. Which would’ve never happened, if we didn’t learn to navigate around the distractions of desperation…sent in to shave it down.

Capitalizing off confusion has been a societal standard for centuries. We’re conditioned to glamorize the things that suck the life out of us. And we’re taught to see the things that actually add value…with little to no real meaning. Love was one of those things I was never taught the real meaning of. The example set was an expectation for it to drain me of all my dreams and desires. So I attracted this in my intimate and platonic relationships. Learning how to love myself, finally reversed my attraction to souls who seemed thirsty to suck mine oooof…dry. Because once I learned that love requires light to also be poured into me, by the receiver of mine, I gained clarity on who came into my life to give…and who was just here to benefit from the motion in my neck.

Seeing a problem and perpetuating it on purpose is crazy. But…a lot of OG (old goofy) aunties are doing this. It honestly feels like these women realize their life decisions led them to the point of no return. So they go out their way to mislead those who look up to them, into repeating the same two steps that got them caught up. The first step is making a life altering mistake. And the second is developing allergies to the accountability that should follow. Unfortunately, most of our elders can’t admit that they’ve aged out of their ‘act bad’ years. Which forces them to compete with the younger generations, by encouraging them to curse their futures…and eventually become the next generation of big age baddies.

I used to have dreams of becoming a bipolar therapist. After getting my Psych degree…I lost all desire to acquire more debt for grad school though. And with the lessons life has taught me up until this point, I chose right. Because the capability that most people possess for painting themselves one way, when looking completely different beneath their mask…would’ve probably led to the loss of my license. Since there’s nothing I hate more than being held hostage in a box of professionalism, patiently waiting for someone to finally see…what I’ve always seen in them. But the growth I’ve reached these last few years, while headlining my own familial Circus Souleil, now has me reconsidering my stance on making a career out of my paint stripping sessions.

Soul ties are the gateway drug to destiny swaps. Because once a succubus spirit latches onto its host…what’s yours becomes theirs. Which is why these energies shape shift their vessel into whatever fairytale appeals most to their mark. Since they understand that imagery gives them access to rooms they never would’ve been able to enter…without it. Their stay in these rooms is usually short…because pregames don’t possess the ability to morph into main attractions. Which is why intimacy is rushed in the beginning…in order for an entity to be attached. And this attachment guarantees all access passes to souls desperate to drain…pipes. For the sole purpose of transferring the life you end up losing from this exchange…into their new one.

I’ve been having urges to relapse rant in the chat. Nothing happened…I just don’t think they deserve the peace they get without my presence. The pLoT to excommunicate my ability to communicate our issues, didn’t have the Baker Act ending expected. And the pain it produced is still present. Popping the perks that come with my disorder is what I want…but that doesn’t treat the root of my discomfort. So now I sit in how it makes me feel, until I don’t feel it anymore. Because projecting that hurt into the chat…just reinforces the distance they intentionally placed between us. But addressing the addiction I have to acknowledging their absence…kills its ability to cause the side effects of withdrawal that comes with it.

Good brain is hard to come by. Physical stimulation doesn’t require skill because…it’s human nature to be swayed by sexuality. Inducing arousal in that thing between my ears…gives members only motion though. I’ve had the privilege of study hall’ing with a couple scholars. But none compare to the head coach I keep running back to. Since he’s the only one who required me to learn a new language…in order to gain admission to his energy. This native tongue took a minute to master. And I’m grateful he’s had the patience…to take his time teaching me. Because the pressure produced from his lessons…almost made me drop out…a few times. Now that I speak it fluently, challenging my mind with plays that penetrate my pineal…is the new standard.

I used to have a slight obsession with Egyptian history…that developed after I saw how the monuments were defaced. Since it was obvious to me, this was done to hide history that reflected round noses being held in high regard. This rewrite was penned by colonizers…who knew imagery would dispel the illusion of inferiority being sold. And the ideology produced from those big chops…was a precurs(e)or for all the sculpting we see today. The issue I’ve had with this illusionary influence, was finally validated after seeing Kai Cenat change perceptions on Walmart shoes. Because they went from unsellable to sold out, overnight…solely off the strength of his cosign. Which makes me question why European standards are still so heavily pushed to our culture…by our culture.

I’ve told the story before, about how I ran away from home…at 25. I thought I saw an Angel on the side of the road→crashed into the back of an F150→lost my job because I couldn’t make the commute → ran away to NC → and joined a homeless program that had better accommodations than most hotels. It was a whole thing. The program didn’t charge us, so I worked and saved enough money to buy a cash car. But when I left the state and moved in with my twin, I lost all sense of self-control and was baited into impulse buying…by my ego. Which caged me into codependence. And I didn’t even realize the gravity of my instant gratification grift…until I ran out of money…and needed the car I didn’t buy…to make more.

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.