CraigJustCraig

Tag: writing

  • Language vs. Reality: A Conversation on Thought, Culture, and the Limits of Words

    Language was built by ancient minds drawn toward fixed ideas—stability, constants, categories, and quick solutions. But the world language tries to describe is change, growth, complexity, and connection. This mismatch creates a gap between lived reality and the rigid thought structures we often use to interpret it.

    In a recent discussion, several voices came together to explore how language shapes thought—and how thought, in turn, shapes language. Here’s how it unfolded:

    @transbuoy offered a compelling starting point:

    “I don’t think it’s language doing this directly—it’s our minds that want to fix some things as unchanging. A static concept is easier to hold than a dynamic one. But of course, everything is changing at different rates—including language itself.

    Descriptive language always comes after the thing it’s describing. It’s the signifier, not the signified.”

    This opened the door to deeper cultural and linguistic questions.

    @CraigJustCraig responded with a cultural lens:

    “I see your point, but I’m approaching this from the angle that not all languages work like English. Especially non-colonial languages—they don’t impose the same rigid structures we see in American English.

    Our dominant language reflects a cultural mindset that codes time as linear, progress as staged, and reality as something to categorize. This supports a worldview that craves order and rationality, but it limits how we perceive the fluidity of existence.”

    @transbuoy agreed and added:

    “I don’t know much about American culture specifically, but colonial culture, yes—language becomes a tool of control, narrower than its potential.”

    The conversation deepened when @LadyJouissance stepped in:

    “Ah, the classic chicken-and-egg of linguistic structuralism—does language shape our thoughts, or do our thoughts shape language?

    I highly recommend Ferdinand de Saussure and Claude Levi-Strauss on this.”

    To which @CraigJustCraig replied:

    “Cooking through Levi-Strauss now—I’ll add Saussure to the mix!”

    @LadyJouissance followed up with a personal insight:

    “I’ve always wondered how my thinking would be different if I’d grown up speaking Mandarin.

    Language influences our thought patterns, but I don’t believe it’s an inescapable cage—just one most people don’t even know they’re in.

    I also believe there are thought processes that happen outside of language. We fixate on language because it’s our bridge to each other. And tracking how meanings shift over time is fascinating—like how ‘sick’ went from bad to good.”

    @CraigJustCraig responded with depth:

    “Yes—breaking free from language’s limitations takes awareness and effort. Much of dominant-language structure discourages self-awareness and conditions people to obey authority. It moralizes needs, labels people, and distracts from empathy and responsibility.

    I often wonder about the thoughts I never had—blocked by inherited language and cultural conditioning. What kind of mental landscape could we have grown into with a completely different linguistic foundation?”

    @LadyJouissance added a philosophical twist:

    “One of my favorite critiques comes from Nietzsche, who challenged Descartes’ ‘cogito ergo sum’ by pointing out that some languages—like Swahili—don’t even require a subject for a verb.

    Just because something is thinking doesn’t prove a ‘self’ exists. It really baked my noodle to realize how deeply language frames our sense of reality.

    The answer? Widen the world you inhabit. It makes breaking free a little easier.”

    @transbuoy chimed in again to affirm:

    “Absolutely—language and reality shape each other. I’ll still check out the book though 😄”

    Closing Reflection
    The power of language is that it both reflects and refracts reality. When we change the language we use—not just the words, but the structure and metaphors—we begin to change how we see, feel, and connect. The world isn’t static, and neither are we. Our evolution begins when we learn to speak not just about change—but in it.

  • before you engage, know this

    I do not hide who I am.
    I don’t downplay it. I don’t dress it up.
    I don’t lie about who I am.
    I show up exactly as advertised.

    You don’t need to decode me—I’ll tell you flat out:

    I’m a sadist.
    I move in the realms of fear, pain, pleasure, and surrender.
    My path is intense. My kinks are dark.

    I am not here for your comfort.
    I celebrate my darkness. I honor and seek the abyss.
    I show you my fire, my darkness, my pleasure.
    I don’t tone it down.
    I don’t offer comfort. I offer intensity.
    I don’t want fans. I want energy, I want honesty, and I want devotion.

    This is the body, mind, and soul set ablaze.

    My kinks are not cute. They are not digestible.
    They are dark, deep, and dangerous to the unprepared.

    This is edgeplay, pain, degradation, fear, sacrifice, ritual, and power—expressed with precision, purpose, and consent.

    I walk the path of hedonism, debauchery, and indulgence—

    Pleasure is my power. Indulgence is my devotion.
    The erotic is my altar. The shadow is my sermon.
    And this practice is my truth.

    I don’t offer entertainment. I offer awakening.
    And awakening is not comfortable.

    I negotiate with clarity and intention.
    If I tell you I’m going to do something, and you agree to it—you are responsible for that agreement.

    If you choose to dance in darkness, step into the abyss, and merge with my will—you must also accept the consequences.

    Once you step into my temple,
    once you sip the wine,
    once you kneel at the altar—
    you are accountable.

    If you chase the flame,
    you don’t get to be shocked when it burns.

    If you comes into my space without intention, without honesty, without readiness—
    you will be removed.
    Not out of pettiness, but because I have a responsibility to protect my work and my energy.

    I don’t tolerate dishonesty, disrespect, or shallow engagement.

    If you’re not grounded, focused, and serious, then you do not belong in this space.
    That’s not a punishment—it’s protection.

    This is a sanctuary.
    A path for the devoted, the willing, the aligned.

    This is sacred, sadistic, shadow work.
    This is practice(cultivate experiences connecting with something beyond your self). philosophy(systematic study of existence, knowledge, values, and reason,). power(the ability to act, influence, or produce change).

    I mix the erotic and the spiritual. I use ritual, altered states, shadow play as tools of expansion.
    Pleasure isn’t just something I enjoy—it’s something I use.
    This is the fire of shadow and flesh.
    This is the unrelenting truth of ecstatic soul.

    this is a path of integration and reverence.

    I seek the disciplined, the passionate, and the willing to engage deeply.

    Those who understand that showing up here comes with expectations.

    I give my time, my energy, and my presence fully.
    That must be reciprocated—whether through time, contribution, support, effort, or service.

    Access is granted only through alignment, action, and sacrifice.

    If this feels like too much
    If this does not resonate,

    If this path does not stir your soul,
    if this current does not call you home—

    turn back now.

    This will swallow you whole.

    But if it does…

    if it speaks to something deep inside you

    If you want depth,
    if you’re ready to be broken open and reshaped with care, cruelty, and intention—step forward.

    Strip bare.
    lay down your offering.
    And step into the flame.

  • 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.

  • Another Initiation

    I’m starting another initiate’s initiation, and I’m always trying to write down what I do and say so that I can do and say it better the next time—as well as reflect on what I did and what I said to see how I’ve changed and evolved over time. Or, even better, to see what things come back around. I call this grimoire

    This has been amazing and keeps me returning to myself in my own self-reflection. in a process of continual rebirth and refine

    I’m walking this couple through selecting rope. This time I put emphasis on the actual selection of the rope as a ritual. I asked them to get honest and ask themselves:

    • What do you plan to do with this rope?
    • What intentions would you like to set with the rope?
    • What headspace would you like to go into?
    • What roles will you take?
    • What part of your will becomes suffused into this?
    • And what message would you like to send down the rope for your partner to receive?

    As I’m asking these questions, I realize—this is an initiation.

    I love magic, fantasy, and imagination, and they play such a heavy part in my craft. As I guide this process, I’m intimately aware of how important and powerful myth and mythology are. The beginning, the origin, the source—the seed or initiating principle of development—all of that holds weight. Myth is not just story; it’s a conceptual tool. It’s the foundation of a culture, a philosophical and cosmological explanation for how TF we are.

    This initiation is a template. And within it lives the pattern of the culture I’m weaving: the logic, the assumptions, the formation of values. The language we use, the symbols and icons we adopt—all of it shapes the unconscious experience where all this work is aimed at.

    From this, a ideology is born.

    What people often don’t realize is: your mythology is your ideology.

    And by ideology, I mean the presentation of culture—the lived and embodied experience. The intellectual, emotional, spiritual actions that emerge from the the preconscious structure that gives rise to conscious identity.****

    The process moves from the preconscious (mythoform) to the conscious (mythology) to the self consciousness(ideology). This isn’t hierarchical nor unidirectional
    Every culture has a direction: why we see the world the way we do.
    Every culture has momentum: why we think, and eventually act, the way we do.

    So, as I speak about this initiation, I start seeing it as a blueprint. A quiet yet powerful invocation to be present, to be intentional, to dissolve the barriers that stand between us and connection.

    What we do when we select rope… we are weaving a spell that says: “This is my heart. This is my message. This is my love and my desire. This is my declaration that I wish to become one with you.”

    That is so intimate—to move energy through you and into your partner to create something sacred !!!

    So—I love cults. And before you start—everything’s a cult. Cult culture. Cult mentality. Cult vibes. Anything can be a cult. Some say all cults are bad, others want to debate the definition. But what fascinates me isn’t the fear—it’s the possibility. I love sects. I love schools, clans, guilds. I love doctrines. The structure, the symbolism, the shared belief—it all speaks to me. There is so much power in names. Now I’m in my head thinking, This is your Choosing, in a deep mysterious voice booming from on high.

    I start walking them through color theory and number theory—talking to them about how each color corresponds with a unique frequency, specific intention, a mood, an emotional and spiritual state.

    I tell them: As you shop, enter this quest with companionship, union, synchronicity, harmony, union and synergy. Let this knowledge be your guide.

    Sometimes I really wonder why people listen to me. I can hear myself too and I sound insane—like, batshit insane. But is it insane if it works anyway?

    So I send them on this quest—to align, invoke, and amplify the energy they wish to take on this journey.

    Like, you see what I’m saying…

    White – Purity, power, new beginnings, healing, peace, and enhanced psychic abilities. Amplifies other colors.
    Black – Energetic protection, release, and clearing of negativity. Misunderstood, but deeply potent.
    Blue – Peace, tranquility, spiritual openness, loyalty, and protection.
    Brown – Grounding, mental connection, household harmony, and stability.
    Silver – Balancing and neutralizing chaotic forces. Harmonizes subtle energies.
    Green – Prosperity, abundance, healing, success, and growth. Heals envy and scarcity mindsets.
    Orange – Vitality, motivation, drive, and clarity of purpose.
    Pink – Heart-centered love, emotional vulnerability, compassion, and nurture.
    Purple – Deep wisdom, spiritual insight, independence, and intuition.
    Red – Passion, fertility, strength, boldness, raw life force.
    Yellow – Joy, charisma, confidence, attraction, and energetic action.

    I tell them to communicate—honestly, transparently. You are not a passenger. Your power is in the choosing. seize your power—this is your first test!!! dun dun dun

    Okay, I’m really having fun—but I think it’s so important to have fun. So much of what I offer is fun. It’s healing, it’s erotic, it’s sensual. I see having fun as a shortcut to presence. being present

    Now I’m back in my imagination. I see this scene playing out again—but you must take yarn, and spin it, and dye it, and dry it, and… each step, your layering, building intention and purpose like the longest mindfuck ever. By the time the rope touches you, you are so deeply aligned with your purpose and intention, the rope feels like an extension of your will.

    I built this. I made this. I crafted this. I chose this. I poured myself into this

    Okay, back from la-la land again.

    I tell them to choose 5 hanks, 30ft long. I tell them this is their first tying session. Rope happens before fiber touches skin.

    I had them choose cotton rope. I know many will probably disagree with me, but I think rope should be a progression. You start at copper and work your way to diamond. In my personal case—hemp!!

    But I think the order of progression should be something like:
    cotton → MFP → nylon (also other synthetics) → natural fiber (jute or HEMP!!!)

    Anyway, I’m biased. Because there is a lot that goes unsaid with owning rope:

    • care, maintenance, cleaning, training, conditioning
    • when to retire rope
    • how to re-twist, re-braid, whip it
    • how to inspect rope
    • what characteristics different materials hold
    • what benefits and detriments those materials bring

    And we’re only talking about the physical here.

    When we bring this to a another level, you get into how the rope smells, what oils/minerals/herbs to use, what do those do, how to cleanse, how to ground. And the list goes on and on.

    These are things I talk about—and I think they’re important. I try to only teach others who also find them also important. When someone’s just looking for technique or a basic rope class, I point them toward skilled instructors, structured courses, spaces dedicated to technical craft. Those places teach the mechanics far better than I can. My work is something else.

    That is the foundation of everything I teach.

    Yeah, it’s a rope class—but it’s a rope class like Hogwarts is a wand class. If that makes sense. (It does to me.)

    I teach more than rope. I teach the art of deep intentional connection. I teach alignment. I teach presence. I teach intimacy—and not the silly kind of intimacy grounded in sex.

    We once knew how to speak heart to heart, soul to sou. It was instinct. But, we’ve lost it. We’ve traded it for convenience, control, and the illusion of safety.
    Now, we chase intimacy without risk. We crave pleasure without investment. We want closeness without vulnerability. We fear the possibility of disappointment. Yet yearn for belonging.

    What I offer isn’t just rope. It’s a to return to self, a return to breath, a return to stillness, and a way out for that thing clawing at your chest that keeps pulling you back here.

    I’m building and teaching a philosophy that helps people tap into that.

    This is so much more than rope.

    Which brings me to the next aspect of what I’ve learned, and what I’ve seen—and what I now warn people against as an interruption to this process:

    Be patient.

    Be patient toward yourself. Be patient with your progress. Be patient with each other. And, Love every step of the way.

    When I say love, I mean get off. NUT. Orgasm. Make it as sexually, mentally, and spiritually satisfying. Every. Single. Time. Every. Single. Step. Truly edge yourself to your own becoming. Have you ever heard of orgasmic meditation essentially the idea is to gradually increase the size and place of pleasure zone in and around body and adopt new pleasurable sensations using the malleablity of your nervous system. With conscience expansion its possible to take this one step further into shapeshifting your emotions your experiences, and your perspective.

    I write all the time about uncovering my own conditioning around sex, roles, goals, purpose, drive, mission, stance, values, self, love, and power.

    We perpetuate a lot of bullshit that doesn’t serve you. Not only does it not serve you, it doesn’t serve anyone you wish to .

    You are meant to have agency.
    You are meant to have choice.
    You are meant to live as one with each other—and with your environment.
    Not in a fucking box. unconnected consciousness isolated time place and circumstance an abstraction for intellectual investigation
    alienate, locked into lower order spatial temporal dimensions. That crazy.

    You are meant to have friends, neighbors, parents, lovers, tribe, village, community.
    Not this fucking scam.

    You are meant to be here with us—in the cult. You are meant to derive your own conclusions, to merge your consciousness into a great collective and wash away the filth.

    You should be taking time to have rituals and ceremonies and spectacle and epiphanies and orgasms, again and again.

    You are meant to notice the contradictions in this all.

  • 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.