CraigJustCraig

Tag: life

  • Having Is Evidence of Wanting You Love that Pile of Shit

    Tell the truth Recently, I had a conversation with a family member—someone I love, but who has this looping tale they tell, over and over again: _“People never respect me. No one honors my boundaries. I’m always being taken advantage of.”_

    And of course, I listened. I nodded. I offered empathy. But eventually, I thought of Existential Kink By Carolyn Elliot , I couldn’t resist slipping into my kink and I gently asked:

    “What if part of you actually _likes_ it?”

    Their face changed, Their whole body stiffened, eyes flashing.
    And then came the chant,

    “I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I _hate_ it.”

    They went into a kind of trance like egoic possession.

    And there it was: _evidence._

    Because the idea that we could _secretly enjoy_ our suffering is so taboo, so offensive, so _kinky_, that most people’s egos can’t handle it. We’ve been so programmed to believe we’re only allowed to desire good things—light, love, abundance, healing—that we’ve cut ourselves off from the darker, equally potent eroticism of failure, frustration, humiliation, rejection.

    But BAAAABBBBYYYYY, let’s be real:
    That red-hot flush of shame you feel when you’re rejected?
    That stuck, paralyzed feeling when you can’t create or move or rise?
    That humiliating little drama you keep reliving in love or money or body?

    That’s not _just_ pain. That’s arousal.
    That’s your psychic masochist doing her damn job.

    “Fear is excitement without the breath,” Fritz Perls said.

    and pain is _pleasure without approval_?

    I felt it with my family member. Their loop—the one they claimed to hate—was _lit up_ with psychic charge. The pain was electric. Addictive. And they weren’t ready to feel the truth beneath it:

    “I actually love this freaky shit, unconsciously of course.
    I get off on being disrespected.
    I love standing in this pile of shit because my pile of shit._
    And I’ve unconsciously do this again and again.”

    That admission? That’s the key part.
    When we consciously embrace our unconscious kink, the pattern loses its compulsion. The taboo loses some luster. The shame becomes a choice. And we regain out power.

    This is about looking deep enough into your own psyche to _own_ the pleasure that’s been running the show behind the scenes.

    Because as long as you insist you hate it—without ever allowing for the erotic charge of it—you’ll stay stuck with it.

    But once you say:

    _“Okay, fine. I do enjoy being stuck.
    I do enjoy being broke.
    I do enjoy feeling unseen.
    I do enjoy the cycle of almost getting there, but not quite.”_

    Then you can ask:
    “What part of me wants this? And what does it _need_ to feel satisfied?”

    that’s where the magic happens.

    Because the game here isn’t to _abolish_ the kink.
    It’s to make the kink conscious.

    Let’s be clear: _none of us invented this shit alone._

    They belong to the collective shadow. To our lineages. To the traumas of civilization. To the twisted divine that clearly gets off on the entire opera of human pain.

    We’re not separate from that. We _are_ that. your kinky little Godself, playing out a drama so dense its got your l thighs clench and your loving it.

    Your stagnation, your heartbreak, your sabotage?

    It’s not random. It’s not a punishment. you are fucking jacking off

    And once you let yourself _feel_ the secret pleasure in that, really _receive_ it—without shame, without guilt. you can get better toy baby we got you

    Having is evidence of wanting. I’m not blaming

    But in a deeply magical, wildly empowering, power-bottom-of-the-soul kind of way.

    We don’t get what we consciously want.
    We get what we unconscious craves.

    So stop denying your desire for drama.
    Get _off_ on it.
    And then—once you’ve truly savored it. Find something new

    Because that’s how the real magic happens, slut.

  • questions from the group chat

    My mistress was the greatest teacher I could have asked for when it came to topping. Serving her taught me the intricacies of power dynamics and the responsibilities of a top in ways nothing else could. Through service, I learned not just what to expect from a bottom, but how to anticipate their needs, read their responses, and hold space for their experiences.

    I served her for years before I ever considered topping, and even then, my first experience was as a service top for one of her friends. That meant my introduction to topping came from the lens of a bottom—understanding submission, surrender, and trust before ever stepping into the role of a top. That perspective shaped me. Topping was never about wielding power for my own gratification; it was about receiving power as a gift and asking, What would you like me to do with it? How do you want to feel? What emotions are you prepared to receive?

    Even after leaving my mistress, when I was asked to service top, I carried that same understanding with me—giving what is desired, not just what I want to give. Over time, I expanded my skills to include all styles of play (with a few exceptions), but I never forgot the feeling of making her proud. The weight of her commands. The way structure and discipline shaped my sense of fulfillment. The deep satisfaction of being trusted to serve.

    Now, every time I top, I ask myself:
    • What feelings am I drawing out?
    • What emotions am I shaping?
    • What fantasies am I bringing to life?
    • What desires or taboos am I touching on?

    Topping, for me, is deeply empathetic, but also intentional. I constantly ask, How did this make you feel? because I know what sensation I was aiming for—but did it land the way I intended?

    Not everyone shares my background, so I’ve also become a corrupter of sorts—exposing people to new sensations, desires, and experiences so I can later build on them. Maybe they’ve never felt real embarrassment before—so I introduce just enough to spark curiosity, then nurture that desire. Over time, they start fantasizing about it, longing for it. And once they crave it, I have new tools to satisfy that hunger, deepen their pleasure, and push them further into their own discovery.

    This is how I top. It’s never just about control—it’s about exploration, emotion, and fulfillment.

  • I was talking to a goddess

    She didn’t speak in words, but in heat, in breath, in the ache behind my ribs:
    “You are not responsible for their feelings.”

    …I used to believe otherwise.

    I shackled my worth to people’s moods, contorted myself into someone else’s idea.
    I made myself small.
    I apologized for existing.
    The fear of abandonment, of rejection, of being too much and not enough at the same time.
    Boy, what a time.

    Then came the revolt.

    I told myself I didn’t care.
    I wore detachment like armor.
    If I couldn’t please them—fuck them.
    I became loud with boundaries and quiet with vulnerability.
    But I wasn’t free.
    I was still ruled—by them.

    Then came a knowing:
    That I can hold space without setting myself aflame.
    That my needs matter.
    And that theirs did too.

    I was not taught this.
    I was taught to blame—either myself or them.
    I was taught to focus on them and to lose myself.
    I’ve learned: feelings are not caused by others, but shaped by how we receive them—filtered through our own needs and expectations.
    Now, my work is to OWN that.

    This is hard to learn.
    Trauma trained me to see everything and everyone as dangerous.
    I forgot how to play.
    I forgot how to imagine.
    But my body remembered, even when my mind forgot.
    And shame clung deep.

    But pleasure is not sin.

    So I began to ask myself:
    What makes me feel good?
    Can I ask—clearly—for what I want?
    Can I speak in a language that is not vague or coded in shame?

    Instead of “Don’t ignore me,”
    I would say, “Would you be willing to check in?”

    Instead of “You don’t care,”
    I would say, “I feel lonely and need connection.”

    This is power.

    I wasn’t given these tools—I had to make them.
    Walking around yearning, yet terrified to feel it.

    Risk, with clarity.

    For the child in me who never learned.
    For the adult in me who is still learning.
    Knowing it’s safe to say:

    I don’t know where I’m going.
    But I promise: I know the way.

  • Hollow Smiles and A Velvet Thrones

    …breath that catches, through heat rising in the belly.

    This time, she came whispering about needs versus strategies.

    I didn’t recognize the difference at first. How easily we miss each other. like boats passing in the night. I’ve spent so long trying to survive that I blurred the line between the two. It’s subtle, but different strategies—like requests or desires—are about specifics. While needs? Needs are different. They’re universal truths we all carry.

    “Your needs are not too much. And they are not the same as the strategies you use to fulfill them.”

    For so long, I was confused.

    I’d say: _Call me, see me, don’t leave me, change for me._
    What I meant was: _I need connection. I need reassurance. I need to be seen._

    But I didn’t have the language. I only had the longing, the shame—and I’d end up analyzing or criticizing.
    “You’re selfish.”
    “You never listen.”

    I didn’t know I could just _name the need_.
    So vulnerable. So exposed.

    Not make someone responsible.
    Not demand a script.

    Just… that I have the right to say:
    _I need care._
    _I need respect._
    _I need room._

    Once I could name my needs, I became aware of my strategies—how I cope with the fear of my needs not being met.

    They are the most human part of me.

    When I lose sight of the truth, I trap myself. I stop seeing possibility.

    It all comes back to this: Be here, now, with what’s real. That’s the gift.

    I think about all the times .
    “I didn’t know how to ask for…”
    “I didn’t know how to say…”
    “I didn’t know how to take ‘no’ as anything other than proof I was unworthy.”

    It fucking sucks to learn this now—unseen, unspoken, unmet needs.

    To realize: I was simply trying to survive.

    That kind of shift—the one that doesn’t need to scream, that doesn’t collapse—it just _is_.

    To name what you feel.
    To honor what you need.
    To ask.

    And when I really get quiet and sit still, I feel it—that sense that our needs aren’t separate.

    We all just want to be whole.

  • Words That Land: Say It With Your Chest and Your Spirit @DiorTheGoddess

    Requests for Dialogue

    •“Would you be willing to take some time to have a conversation with me about [topic]?”

    •“Could we sit down together and look at what we both need to see if we can find a way to work this out?”

    Offering Empathy

    •“Let me see if I’m understanding. What I’m getting is…?”

    •“I want to make sure I’m getting it. It sounds like…?”

    •“Here’s what I’m hearing…Is that right?”

    Eliciting Information

    •“Tell me more.”

    •“Anything else you’d like me to understand about this?”

    Requests for Empathy

    •“What would be most helpful for me is just to be heard. Would you be willing to listen for a bit and tell me what you’re hearing?”

    •“I just said a lot and I’m not sure it all came out the way I was intending. Could you tell me what you got from all that?”

    •“What I just said is really important to me. Would you be willing to tell me what you’re getting?”

    Inserting a Pause

    •“I’d like a moment to gather my thoughts.”

    •“I’m not sure. Let me think about that.”

    •“This sounds important. I’d like to give it some time.”

    •“I’d like some time to take that in. Can we pause here for a moment?”

    Taking a Break: To Pause a Conversation

    •“I’d really like to continue our conversation, and I’m not in the best frame of mind to do that right now. Can we take a break and come back to this…?”

    •“I’d really like to hear what you have to say, and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed, so I don’t think I’ll be able to listen well. Could we take a break and continue tomorrow?”

    •“I’m committed to figuring this out together and don’t quite have the space to think clearly now. Can we put this on hold until…?”

    •“I want to finish our conversation, and I don’t think anything else I say right now will be useful. Could we take a break until…”

    •“I’d really like to hear what you have to say, but the way you’re saying it is making that very difficult. I wonder if you’d be willing to…

    …try explaining what’s happening for you in a different way?”

    …take a break until we’ve both had a chance to reflect on this?”

    …let me have a moment to tell you what’s going on for me?”

    Interrupting

    •“Let me make sure I’m still with you…”

    •“I want to make sure I’m getting everything you said. Can we pause for a moment so I can make sure I’m following it all?”

    •“I want to hear the rest of what you’re saying, and I’m starting to lose track. Can I summarize what I’m hearing so far?”

    •“I want you to continue, but I’m a bit confused. May I ask a question?”

    •“I want to keep listening, and there’s something I want to clarify. May I respond for a moment?”

    Redirecting

    •“I’m glad you mention that. Before we go there, I’d like to say one or two more things about…”

    •“I appreciate you bringing that up. I want to discuss that in a minute, but first I’d like to touch on…”

    •“Yes, that’s important. Can we finish talking about this first, and come back to that in a moment?”

    Hearing No

    •“I’m curious to know, why not? Could you share more?”

    •“What’s leading you to say no? Do you have other ideas?”

    •“Can we take some time to brainstorm ideas that could work for both of us?”

    •“What would you need to know, or what could I do, to make it possible for you to say yes?”

    Saying No

    •“I’d like to say yes, and here’s what’s getting in the way of that right now.”

    •“I’m hearing how important this is to you, and I’m not seeing how I can make it work given that I also have a need for…Could we explore some other options that might work for you?”

    •“I can’t agree to that without a significant cost to myself in terms of…[other needs]. Would it work for you if we tried…instead?”

    Requests for Do-Overs

    •“That didn’t come out quite right. Can I try that again?”

    •“I feel like we got off to the wrong start. Could we start over?”

    •“I’m concerned some of the things I said aren’t helping. Would you be willing to let me try again?”

    •“Things didn’t really go the way I was hoping when we talked. Could we try having the conversation again?

  • Finished The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm Review

    A Masterclass in Emotional and Intellectual Dragging. Let me tell you something: this book hit. Hard. I picked up The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm thinking I was about to get some soft, philosophical musings on romance and relationships. What I got instead was a complete philosophical takedown of society, ego, capitalism, and our inability to connect. Fromm doesn’t just explain love — he dissects it, deconstructs it, demands better from us. And he does it all with the most elegant, intellectual side-eye I’ve ever read.

    The tone? Everything.

    It’s like watching someone set up dominoes — precise, methodical — and then knock them down one by one until suddenly you’re left staring at the last one, trembling. And that last domino is you.

    Fromm builds to this absolutely chilling indictment of modern society:

    “Our society is run by a managerial bureaucracy… man is an automaton—well fed, well clad, but without any ultimate concern for that which is his peculiarly human quality and function… If it is true… that love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence, then any society which excludes… the development of love, must in the long run perish of its own contradiction.”

    Read that again. That’s not a quote, that’s A warning.

    Fromm breaks down why love is missing in the modern world — how we’ve confused love with consumerism, performance, control. He talks about why we don’t know how to love, how it all got tangled up in the machinery of profit and productivity, and why learning to love is not just cute or noble — it’s essential to our very humanity.

    And the way he says it? Impeccable.
    There is shade in every sentence. It’s not preachy — it’s precise. It’s like being read for filth by someone in a velvet smoking jacket, sipping wine, quoting Hegel, and daring you to catch up. It’s the politest, nastiest intellectual takedown I’ve ever read. A masterclass in soft-spoken audacity.

    The tone is calm but cutting. Thoughtful but brutal. High-key shade on every page. There’s a scoff baked into every sentence. I swear, I could hear the arched eyebrow.

    And yet… underneath all of it is this beautiful, radical, sincere hope. A belief that love can be cultivated. That we can unlearn this disconnection. That society can be reshaped in the image of true love — not the romanticized fluff we’re sold, but the real, difficult, honest kind rooted in care, discipline, humility, and commitment.

    I took so many notes. My notes are chaos. My brain is cooked.

    And let’s talk about that last chapter — the one I will be re-reading every month until further notice. It cracked me wide open. If you talk to me anytime soon, be warned: I will be quoting this book like scripture. I see why bell hooks cited it in All About Love.

    10/10, no notes. Except, you know, the entire notebook I filled.

  • On time

    Magick is all about mythoform and mythology—the deep stories we tell that shape how we see and move through the world.

    One of the core myths we’ve inherited?
    That ever-present sinking feeling that we’re “wasting time.”
    I still feel trapped by it. Caught in an antagonistic system that breeds confusion, anxiety, and fear.
    That’s not an accident—it’s a built-in feature.

    “Where do these white people run to every morning? To their workplaces, of course. Why do they have to run to something that is not running away from them? They do not have time.”

    I had to say this word in French because there is no equivalent in the local language. The conversation came to a halt when the elder had to ask what this “time” is.
    (Malidoma Somé, Ritual: Power, Healing, and Community)

    Let that sink in.

    This isn’t just a philosophical take—this is about how myth (yes, even modern, “rational” cultures have them) is silently scripting our lives.
    Because “time” we’re so afraid of wasting—it doesn’t exist the way we were told.

    This is my second time coming across this.

    In Yurugu by Marimba Ani:

    “Time” in this view moves ceaselessly towards some point never reached in the “future.” This sense of telos (Greek for “end,” “purpose,” or “goal”) is an important aspect of European mythology—the stories a culture uses to explain the world, its origins, and the fundamental aspects of human existence.

    It gives meaning to European life.

    Yet the “future” creates more problems than it resolves. Ironically, this “future” is approached by the ever-present line of time through which the European seeks fulfillment, but at the same time assures her/him of never being fulfilled.

    The “future” represents unattainable perfection.
    It is an abstraction that is unreachable and, therefore, unknowable.
    And what is unknowable for the European causes anxiety.

    The European psyche needs the illusion of a rationally ordered universe in which everything can be known.

    A future that never comes.
    A perfection you never reach.
    A loop of anxiety, fear, and shame dressed up in suits, clocks, and productivity.

    And the gag is—this was all by design.

    European mythoform—the unconscious structural pattern shaping its worldview—creates an unknown and unknowable future whose only relationship to the past and present is that it determines them, but cannot be determined by them. This antagonistic situation causes emotional confusion, anxiety, and fear for the European.

    Yet this oppressive future cannot be avoided,
    Because the clock moves them toward it at an uncontrollable pace—
    Which seems to move faster and faster.

    All of this is an effect of the limitations of lineal, secular time.
    It is neither phenomenal nor sacred nor spiritual.
    Participants in the culture have only one recourse against the fear: Science (Purchasing of “insurance” a attempt to escape the fear.)

    They seek to relieve their anxiety by gaining control over what controls them. Failing, in the end, to find fulfillment. Because the European conception of science is above all secular, alienating, literate, rationalistic, and linear.

    This abstract and oppressive future continues to threaten, to intimidate, to frighten. They move inexorably toward it, a movement that imparts value (“progress”), and yet the perceived destiny is fear-producing.

    The European worldview doesn’t just teach this logic—
    It hides it beneath the illusion of being “universal.”
    Then turns around and sells that illusion to the rest of the world back to US

    The culture teaches its logic. It hands you its worldview.
    You absorb it, bury it, act on it—and forget it’s not truth, it’s programming.

    “Experts” dig that logic back up, slap a label on it, and sell it as universal truth.

    They present it with such authority—it can only be the only valid way to think.
    But what they’re really pushing is their assumed reality, dressed up as logic and objectivity.

    And because of the way it’s delivered, It gets imposed. Globalized.

    Meanwhile, its roots—Christian morality, Western value systems, white fear, capitalist logic—stay camouflaged under this fake-ass pseudouniversalism.

    It’s clever.
    It’s violent.
    And it keeps us divided.

    In a magickal practice, we don’t work with those stories—we create new ones.
    We bend time.
    Pause it.
    Let it circle back.
    Let it disappear.

    We can reclaim time, redefine time, and name our own rhythms.
    We can create moments that are timeless.
    This is the beauty of the path.

    The further I go, the more I realize this isn’t just about rope, or candles, or chants.
    It’s about epistemology.
    It’s about which stories get believed—and why.
    It’s about what we can do once we stop believing the lies.

    Because the mythoform of the dominant culture is designed to make you chase something you can never catch.
    It tells you time is linear, scarce, and slipping away.
    That if you’re not productive, you’re not valuable.
    That rest is lazy.
    That pleasure is dangerous.

    But we know better.
    This requires deep consideration of all the bullshit that’s been assumed.
    We remember who the fuck we are.
    We strip it.
    Burn it.
    Build Anew.

  • This Shit Is a Scam 

    I was rereading though my notes again this morning and talking with Goddess Dior, and somewhere in the middle , I got _fucking mad_. Not just irritated—_PISSED_. Because I realized, once again, like a slap in the face: this shit is a scam.

    Let me be clear—what I’m talking about is _individualism_. This lie we’ve all been told. This pretty little illusion . This fantasy that tells you you’re “free” because you have options. That you’re “authentic” because you picked a different brand or have your own flavor of trauma.

    _you’re not free_. You’re _standardized_. Capitalism could not function if you were.

    “It needs you who feel free and independent, not subject to any authority or principle or conscience—yet willing to be commanded, to do the expected , to fit into the machine without friction; to be guided without force, led without leaders, prompted without aim…”

    That’s the shit right there ….

    We’ve been _tricked_. _Coaxed_. Hoodwicked. _Beguiled_. _Threatened_. Even _killed_ for not conforming. To further concentrate capital, they hollowed us out and called it _progress_.

    And what do we have left?

    We wear a mask of individuality while living lives designed by some old fuck, managed by a cuck, and approved by some bitch. We are taught to _cooperate_, to _be nice_, to _not cause problems_, to _not stand up or out_—all for the sake of hive efficiency and marketability.

    We are so desperate to belong that we _mistake tolerance for intimacy_.

    We search endlessly for resonance, for something _real_, for a heartbeat in the noise—
    but all we find are more distractions.

    Bro this shit pisses me off:
    This isn’t love. This isn’t freedom. This isn’t connection. This is fucking sedation.

    We are automatons with personality packages, cogs with bios. We have forgotten our own fire. Forgotten each other. Forgotten the goddamn _way_.

    We live by the clock. Our joy is scheduled. Our rebellion is approved. We soothe our aches with passive consumption—just numbing out. Our “individuality” is curated in bulk. Our prayers are shallow—_grant me success_, _make me visible_, _help me win_. But no one prays for the truth. No one prays for love. No one prays to feel _real_ .

    We are being sold the fuck show while being trained to obey without question, to chase without purpose, to function without feeling. And we’re doing it with a smile.

    yo, this sucks to write.
    Im looking deeper cause this cant be it.
    where is the heartbeat beneath all this.
    _We are not meant to do this alone._

    We are meant to _resonate_. To _feel_. To Hurt. To Heal. To burn all this debris.
    To _see the humanity_ in one another—not the label, not the party, not the gender or skin or role—but the raw, terrifying, beautiful _shit underneath.

    **Fuck the machine. start connecting. Choose yourself and choose us to. _For the wild ones. The broken-hearted . The rebels. Those who remember._

    See you at the gallows.

  • I was talking to a goddess

    She didn’t speak in words, but in heat, in breath, in the ache behind my ribs:
    “You are not responsible for their feelings.”

    …I used to believe otherwise.

    I shackled my worth to people’s moods, contorted myself into someone else’s idea.
    I made myself small.
    I apologized for existing.
    The fear of abandonment, of rejection, of being too much and not enough at the same time.
    Boy, what a time.

    Then came the revolt.

    I told myself I didn’t care.
    I wore detachment like armor.
    If I couldn’t please them—fuck them.
    I became loud with boundaries and quiet with vulnerability.
    But I wasn’t free.
    I was still ruled—by them.

    Then came a knowing:
    That I can hold space without setting myself aflame.
    That my needs matter.
    And that theirs did too.

    I was not taught this.
    I was taught to blame—either myself or them.
    I was taught to focus on them and to lose myself.
    I’ve learned: feelings are not caused by others, but shaped by how we receive them—filtered through our own needs and expectations.
    Now, my work is to OWN that.

    This is hard to learn.
    Trauma trained me to see everything and everyone as dangerous.
    I forgot how to play.
    I forgot how to imagine.
    But my body remembered, even when my mind forgot.
    And shame clung deep.

    But pleasure is not sin.

    So I began to ask myself:
    What makes me feel good?
    Can I ask—clearly—for what I want?
    Can I speak in a language that is not vague or coded in shame?

    Instead of “Don’t ignore me,”
    I would say, “Would you be willing to check in?”

    Instead of “You don’t care,”
    I would say, “I feel lonely and need connection.”

    This is power.

    I wasn’t given these tools—I had to make them.
    Walking around yearning, yet terrified to feel it.

    Risk, with clarity.

    For the child in me who never learned.
    For the adult in me who is still learning.
    Knowing it’s safe to say:

    I don’t know where I’m going.
    But I promise: I know the way.

  • Hollow Smiles and A Velvet Thrones

    …breath that catches, through heat rising in the belly.

    This time, she came whispering about needs versus strategies.

    I didn’t recognize the difference at first. How easily we miss each other. like boats passing in the night. I’ve spent so long trying to survive that I blurred the line between the two. It’s subtle, but different strategies—like requests or desires—are about specifics. While needs? Needs are different. They’re universal truths we all carry.

    “Your needs are not too much. And they are not the same as the strategies you use to fulfill them.”

    For so long, I was confused.

    I’d say: _Call me, see me, don’t leave me, change for me._
    What I meant was: _I need connection. I need reassurance. I need to be seen._

    But I didn’t have the language. I only had the longing, the shame—and I’d end up analyzing or criticizing.
    “You’re selfish.”
    “You never listen.”

    I didn’t know I could just _name the need_.
    So vulnerable. So exposed.

    Not make someone responsible.
    Not demand a script.

    Just… that I have the right to say:
    _I need care._
    _I need respect._
    _I need room._

    Once I could name my needs, I became aware of my strategies—how I cope with the fear of my needs not being met.

    They are the most human part of me.

    When I lose sight of the truth, I trap myself. I stop seeing possibility.

    It all comes back to this: Be here, now, with what’s real. That’s the gift.

    I think about all the times .
    “I didn’t know how to ask for…”
    “I didn’t know how to say…”
    “I didn’t know how to take ‘no’ as anything other than proof I was unworthy.”

    It fucking sucks to learn this now—unseen, unspoken, unmet needs.

    To realize: I was simply trying to survive.

    That kind of shift—the one that doesn’t need to scream, that doesn’t collapse—it just _is_.

    To name what you feel.
    To honor what you need.
    To ask.

    And when I really get quiet and sit still, I feel it—that sense that our needs aren’t separate.

    We all just want to be whole.