The Ultimate Guide to Entries

*ENTRies UPLOADED monthly”

“A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.”

― Thomas Mann, Essays of Three Decades

“THE DUALITY OF THE PSCHE”

ENTRY #1

 Exploring the different angles in my mind has been the most exhilarating aspect that the universe has given me. My passions, insecurity, and vantage point of the cards that have been dealt to me are things that were set in stone by destiny. My thoughts and hunger for a deeper connection to the darkest parts of myself are ancient. My love for romance led me to watch Me, Myself, and Irene. Jim Carrey plays the main character, and in this film, his character is a chronic people pleaser whose bottom-up trauma results in his brain creating an altered personality that can cope with the hardships that he experienced. His wife cheated on him and had three kids with another man. His peers treated him like an imbecile for taking care of kids who weren’t his and being easily pushed around. I don’t believe that anything happens by coincidence, so coming across this movie in an era where I’m exploring and seeking to understand the psyche. Not just mine, but men and women who have interesting personality types. I’ve dug deep into the darkness that I carry and broken it down to understand the 5 W’s of it. The dark side of the main character is Hank, who has a hard-ass, narcissistic, and ruthless personality that gets him into trouble. Even in his darkest times, he remains resourceful and embodies the values he has upheld as a public servant for over a decade. I have an obsession with finding the significance of small details in everything. I believe that it’s the most important aspect when it comes to finding the beauty in life. In one scene, Hank decides to get plastic surgery to fix one of his insecurities as an apology for causing Charlie trouble. Highlighting that even though the two personalities differ on so many different levels, the thing that brings them together is their disdain for his chin. Even in my darkest times, I wanted to improve my insecurities as reassurance to both sides of myself. No one is above introspection and observing their dark sides, often shining a light on the ruthless parts of ourselves. Hank’s methods of showing Charlie that it is essential to stand up for yourself and your beliefs weren’t always the best, but he had good intentions. All humans suffer from the virus called perfectionism, which stems from traumas, but duality is the remedy. The need to be a perfect person can result in dividing your beautiful psyche, which could result in losing the facade that you cling to. Explore the dark side so it doesn’t control you.

“le luxe de l’amour”

ENTRY #2

Alexander McQueen once said, ‘Beauty can come from the strangest of places…’ It is the ugly things that I notice more because other people tend to ignore them. This week, my love for romantic movies peaked. These reflections frame how audiences construct self-image through on-screen love.

I wanted to study the relationship between romantic movies and their effects on our self-concept. I’ll be exploring this question on both my blog and Substack. My method compares scenes across eras and notes shifts in romance’s tone and its meaning for identity.

I decided to binge-watch romantic films set in different eras to uncover the hidden mysteries of love. In Entries, writing, I document these insights for readers. This project will appear on my blog and Substack. It links cinema to self-concept with practical takeaways.

The first movie was Entergalactic (“Watch Entergalactic”), an animated romantic drama that follows the emotional rollercoaster of Jabari and Meadow. Even though the couple’s attraction was instant, it was probably destined to happen. Unresolved issues from their past, along with ambitions, create a wedge in their connections. After watching this movie, I think true love is a luxury, and most people are sold illusions of it. The love shared between the two main characters is depicted with music and a spectrum of colors that embody the magnetism they share. Love like that has the power to heal and end wars. 

My second film was Cane River (Cane River), which is set in the early 80s and gave insight into the dynamic of southern Creoles, the descendants of those who were owned by them, and a government that was seizing the lands of many African-Americans (80s loss of land). This gave a glimpse into how love could heal us from the transgressions committed centuries ago. The love that flourishes between the main characters, Peter Metoyer and Maria Mathis, exposes a side of love that requires you to surrender to the present and cancel out the noise from the crowd. I think relationships serve as mirrors that can either highlight our most beautiful parts or our insecurities. This conclusion led me back to my original question. Was love an illusion or a luxury?

My third film was 27 Dresses (“Watch 27 Dresses Streaming Online”), which gave a spotlight to the girls who were “always bridesmaids but never the bride” and how marriage is the measurement of love for women. The main character, Jane Nicholas, has a closet filled with dresses from all 27 weddings that she has attended. Watching movies like this convinced me that love was an illusion that women bought into by marriage. Women using marriage as the measurement of how much their partner loved me often left me perplexed because 7th-grade civics taught me about the power structure. The different branches, the laws, and the precautions set in place to prevent the abuse of power. Marriage sounded like an enforceable contract of free will on the person you claim to love. Since March of this year, the CDC has reported that over 2 million people have gotten married. On the other hand, over half a million people have filed for divorce (“FastStats – Marriage and Divorce”). My conclusion is that marriage requires respect and reciprocity, not love. The results of the observations I’ve made from romantic movies, married family members, and my relationships, sadly, love is never enough. We treat love like a sprint rather than the marathon that it is. 

The next movie on my list was Sweet Home Alabama, which gave a different point of view on Southern love and reciprocity. The movie is centered around a southern girl named Melanie Smooter who left her hometown and ran off to New York in hopes of building a life for herself. The drama between the main character and her ex-husband shines a spotlight on the importance of respect and reciprocity. The lack of could result in losing the very thing you cherish.

One common theme among these romantic movies is that women and men have different definitions of respect and love. The difference in the definitions often leaves humans unfulfilled in their pursuits of love. Which results in love feeling like a luxury that we have to buy into instead of something that we become one with. I’ll be exploring more on my Substack.

“No mistakes, just design.”

“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.” A pearl of wisdom stated by Shakespeare (William Shakespeare) expresses three indispensable values. It reminds us to love one another, limit our trust to a few, and do no harm to others. This week, the idea of trust is put to the question. What is trust? Who can you trust? How important is trust? All reasonable questions, but not the most important question. One of my many convictions is that experiences and relationships in life are reflections. This presented the assumption that we betray parts of ourselves when we allow others to betray us. Betrayal has such a foul and negative connotation, but it often presents itself in fragments that contradict one’s morals. We betray our ideals for the sake of experience and relationships, in the hope of finding someone we can trust. The true essence of trust comes from within. Do you trust yourself? Naturally, most people would answer “yes”. I speculate that there are aspects of our lives that we might fail short of because we lack self-trust. Trust, defined as a verb, is to “believe in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of” (English | Oxford Languages). If the definition of trust were applied to our introspections, would the answer remain “yes”? 

Shakespeare’s advice only speaks to how to utilize trust in our external circumstances. But assurance in oneself is crucial when deciding who to trust. Who can you trust with your secrets, vulnerable parts, and insecurities? Most would say family, friends, and close companions. As flawless as that assumption might be, those are the ones who betray you the most. We can pull examples of loved ones betraying one another from movies, shows, and real-life experiences. From Marvin Gaye’s father ending his life to Selena’s manager murdering her. A relatable experience is your parents sharing your moments with other family members without your consent. The suggestion that the ones closest to you should be trusted is faint. Trusting that you are making the best decisions about who to trust is half of the solution. You trust that the ones closest to you are honest about their confidence, self-assurance, and are empathetic with you. The word “betrayal” derives from the Middle English word “bitrayen,” which means “misled.” (“Betrayal – Definition) So do those who betray one another allow themselves to be misled by their inadequacies and lack of confidence? Franz Kafka once said that “Man cannot live  without a permanent trust in something indestructible in himself…that indestructible something as well as his trust in it may remain permanently concealed from him.” (“Franz Kafka”)

Kafka highlights how important imperishable trust in oneself has to be, even when the ego might interfere. Navigating through feelings of inadequacies without relinquishing the responsibility of development onto others is key to building self-trust. Holding yourself accountable for your mistakes and the growth that comes from them. The principles on whom to trust are not based on flesh and blood. But loyalty to one’s ethics and virtues. I’ll be exploring more on my Substack.  

Works Cited

“Betrayal – Definition, Meaning & Synonyms.” Vocabulary.com, https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/betrayal. Accessed 22 June 2025.

“Franz Kafka.”

“Oxford Languages and Google – English | Oxford Languages.” Oxford Languages, https://languages.oup.com/google-dictionary-en/. Accessed 22 June 2025.

“William Shakespeare – Love all, trust a few, do wrong to…” Brainy Quote, https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/william_shakespeare_106076?src=t_trust. Accessed 21 June 2025.

“Hidden in plain sight.”

I’m currently on an eremition. After years of having a skewed perception of what love is, reframing what is worthy of sacrifice and devotion is key. Reframing as a concept seems easy, but it feels like being a recovering addict or suffering from Stockholm syndrome. In pursuit of Nexalune, you’ll be faced with the reality that the very thing that you love can consume you in unimaginable ways. Having enough awareness that something or someone isn’t good for you is insufficient; it takes valor to release oneself from this form of self-inflicted harm. Relinquishing the responsibility of holding on, in the name of love, feels like the pressure being lifted. In Albert Camus’ “Notebook”, he says, “I wage war with myself, and I will destroy myself, or I will be reborn, that is all.” (“Notebooks 1935-1942 by Albert Camus”) The wars that gave birth to the most astute versions of myself began in the name of love. Indulging in war to defend my unreserved love for my passions, partnerships, and purpose felt justified. 

So, the topic of recognizing those around you who may be feeding their egos with your love or admiration infiltrated my algorithm. I could assume that it’s the byproduct of doomscrolling in the digital era, or maybe the powers that be were asking me to do an audit of my life.​​ My dreams for the next week were vivid with the faces of those who knowingly and unknowingly betrayed me. I was a spectator in the rooms where the decisions and conversations were held about me. The war that I felt justified in fighting ceased, and my bonds no longer had value.

 During my eremition, I realized that I was hidden in plain sight. In the sense that my value, love, and consideration were overlooked in the situations that I was in. Most of the time, those who took me for granted always come back with their tail between their leg in hopes that love will blind me from their transgressions or betrayals. Once you’ve overcome the wars internally and externally, you leave forgiveness to God. As a believer and academic, the idea of forgiving those who were intentionally malicious felt conflicting. 

Psalm 7 says, “He travaileth with iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood…his mischief shall return upon his head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his pate.” I found myself attached to this verse while dealing with my conflicting feelings when it came to forgiving others. When I was younger, my dad and I would drive on the Ave, and he would always give away his spare change to those less fortunate. He would always tell, “When you give to others, give with your whole heart, and what they do with it is not your business.” He taught me how to love and empathize with others. But my womanhood taught me that the situation that made me feel undervalued had little to do with me and everything to do with the people who could not self-govern themselves or were filled with envy. Part of me pities those who didn’t have the backbone to stand on their own, and the other half couldn’t muster a fuck to give. Roman wasn’t built in a day, and I’m not God. I’ve released the need to forgive people because I now consider their intentions instead of how much I might love them.

I’m extremely grateful that I was hidden in plain sight. Those situations heightened my pattern recognition, dissolved bonds with disingenuous people, and made room for better. Sometimes the only way to see the blessings in these transgressions is to find solitude.   

“A view from the outside”

The view from the outside is so soothing. It wasn’t always like this; Unfortunately, I spent a lot of time hating how much the sun shone on me, the way the butterflies rested on my shoulder, and my solitude. As cliché as that might sound, it’s true. Being ostracized was a blessing and a curse. Instead of being sad or depressed, I focused on facilitating a space for isolation to elevate myself. Having a view from the outside is only a curse if your life is unfulfilling. Ostracization was a weapon used to belittle my true authenticity. The blessing came from realizing that isolation and the removal of those who used ostracism as a weapon were inevitable universal cycles. In my case, the situations that taught me this lesson came from my youth. 

Albert Einstein once said, “The mind that is open to a new idea never returns to its original size.” My admiration for Einstein came from Richard Dawkins’ “The God Delusion”. 16-year-old me was not prepared for the wisdom of both Einstein’s and Darwin’s perspectives on God. The times in my life when I was pushed to the side or “outside” of what the norm was, new ideas and hobbies manifested. After that, I was never the same person, thankfully. This realization brought a cloud of shame over me. How many times has God rejected my desires to protect me? 

Now, my days are spent expressing my gratitude to God for removing me from the things that I would’ve willingly let consume me. Not just relationships or friendships, but the mindsets and habits that kept me in destructive cycles. That’s the beauty of being on the outside; the process of self-actualization is a solo journey. In my case, it was a journey I was thrown into without a guide. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t change the journey at all. The gold that I’ve harvested from my journey is invaluable and precious to me. 

On this journey, fasting has been a very useful tool. Since my adolescence, I’ve always been a dreamer. I was born with a tired soul, so my dreams are my escape. During my fast, my dreams revealed to me that the keys were in my hands. I woke up again with that same cloud of shame over me, but it quickly turned into anger. I began to grow angry at those who benefited from my nativity, at the fact that I had the key the whole time. It felt like someone relishing in you begging for crumbs when you own a bakery. The only way through these emotions was to return inward. Acknowledging God in my life while asking for help processing these foreign emotions. 

Recently, I’ve been studying the origin of many religions. From Taoism to Hinduism, common themes always present themselves. We all believe in a supreme God or a higher power, regardless of the ways we choose to express our gratitude. During my research, I began to study the native tribal religion of my land. I discovered the role that feminism and Voodoo played in the Haitian Revolution. A view from the outside granted an understanding of who and what I came from. This allowed me to shed my old skin and embrace all the aspects of my existence.

As I get older, I spend less time worrying about fitting in or outside validation. I don’t subscribe to any organized religion, but I believe in God. I believe that Jesus came to Earth to teach us how to live amongst one another. I distance myself from those who use religion as a means to objectify others while hiding their poor character behind their beliefs. I use history as a tool for understanding my place in the world. I don’t believe in comparisons, but I do believe in pattern recognition. The pattern of ostracization that occurs when you stand for something, and you won’t allow yourself to fall for anything. The story of Jesus Christ reflects the consequences that come from standing on what you know to be true and allowing time to reveal the truth. 

On many different levels, the oppression and ostracization of sacred energy have been normalized. Reclaiming my power back from the moments that I was left out and the shame that came with it was the first step in healing. The Bible says that “Man is corrupt. I put my trust in God and never in man. God has commanded angels to protect and preserve me in all ways. At the end, I wouldn’t trade my view from the outside for a chair next to corruption.     

“On the other side.”

The time for reclaiming the narrative has arrived. Sometimes, silence is the proper response to hearing misinformation about my true character. Other times, reading someone their God-given rights is necessary. My older cousin once said something along the lines of “A misinformed person is a dangerous person.” This became a fear of mine, which contributed to my need to know it all, be logical, and always have facts to back it up. Misinformation can lead to poor decision-making on multiple levels. For example, in the recent election cycle, a large majority of Hispanics voted Republican. This decision has had a damaging effect on their communities due to the lack of knowledge on how these policies would impact them. Most people feel the effects of misinformation on a different level, such as rumors or false accusations. The goal of spreading misinformation is to distort the truth. 

We have two ears, two eyes, and two nostrils.

I’ve been focusing on realizing when I’m hearing something.

My last courtship taught me a lot about myself.

No matter how well you think you know someone, you can never truly know them.

Most importantly, anyone at any time will do anything to you.

The majority of my previous courtships were with boys who presented themselves as charming and caring.

They also had a hint of chivalry.

Once they feel they’ve conquered you, the ‘nice guy’ mask falls.

After all the gifts and endless compliments, they become extremely aggressive.

Or they begin to deploy manipulation tactics.

This experience isn’t new to women.

However, the lasting effects of these kinds of situations are often disregarded.

The facts are that for every five women, at least one has experienced an attempted or completed rape.

In a woman’s lifetime, 81% of them experience harassment or assault.

For domestic violence, for every four women, at least one has experienced violence in a romantic relationship.

Additionally, 35.6% of women have experienced violence or stalking by their romantic partners.

The most disheartening statistic is that 77% of female victims are victimized by the same offender.

The psychological factors and statistics of these dynamics made my sabbatical from courting worthwhile.

I’ve learned the best way to combat misinformation is to bring truth and facts to the forefront. I’ve observed that anytime a tactic is deployed to dim or control your light, it doesn’t work; boys often resort to smearing your name and spreading misinformation. It was the most distasteful part of courting, but it gave light to the kind of relationship I didn’t want. I don’t hold space for abusive men, their traumas, or mommy issues. Women experience trauma at a higher rate than men, but still find ways to continue to evolve. In the fall of last year, I listened to Princella Clark, “The Game: 41 Shades of Men. Clack talks about the different archetypes of men and the traumas that lead to their abusive ways. Society has placed the burden on women to be the ports for men to offload their traumas and problems. 

 Proverbs 18:20-24 highlights the importance of the reasons and how harmful spreading misinformation can be to you, others, and the effect of abusing the favor that comes with being in a connection to a woman. The Bible will always be a reference point whenever I need to analyze from a more spiritual perspective than a logical one. What I’ve been able to conclude is that Men feel the effects of their poor decision-making on a different astral plane. Comparing the paths of how women and men deal with either tough times or heartbreak shows the difference in the capacity of each gender.  The point of internalizing and intellectualizing my past courtship or trauma was to find the meaning behind the chaos. I prefer not to reminisce about what I thought love was, but the past serves as a reminder of what love is not. 

During my intellectualizing phase, I concluded that most perpetrators hope that the trauma they inflict hinders you from ever finding joy, happiness, or love. My final act of rebellion against these tactics is to continue to overflow with love, genuine kindness, and find equally yoked partners. I believe that life is happening for you, not to you. I’m grateful for my experiences and the lessons that came from my courtships. These lessons are the reasons I’ve been able to attract dynamics that are safe, loving, supportive, kind, and understanding of my value. I’ve attracted partners who aren’t intimidated by my intensity, gently guide me, and respect my boundaries.

I’ve never questioned myself when it came to settling into my partnership. I’m not susceptible to the slut-shaming that comes from refusing to settle for manure wrapped in gold served on a silver platter. I experienced committed relationships very early on in my life. Commitment doesn’t always equate to happiness, regardless of the ring or title that’s attached to it. Since then, I’ve curated a list of commandments that I’ve vowed to stick to. I’ve reclaimed what love means to me, the type of love I want, and the love I’ll accept. 

The effects of misinformation can be hurtful, but necessary. I’m glad the ones who fell for the misinformation picked their side, which spared me from creating trivial long-term connections. The beauty of making it to the other side is being able to share and create space better. “You exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you,” says Vice President Kamala Harris (“Coconut Tree” #). As cliché as this might be, several women who came before this generation were slaves to societal and cultural norms; Unfortunately, the only remedy is rebellion. Unsubscribe from the things that don’t bring you true happiness, regardless of what anyone has to say. 

Recently, I came across an injured moth. It was stuck in between the crack of the door and was unable to move. I gently grabbed it and observed its wings and legs to ensure that it could fly away. After all my examinations, the moth was fine. It stayed there the whole night, unable to fly away. Not because it was truly injured, I presume that it was traumatized by being stuck in the door and multiple people stepping on it.

Recognizing just how fragile nature is mirrors back to me how fragile we as humans are. I’ll refrain from adding in the statistics of men who committed crimes against their partners based on their “emotions. The act of being a woman is both liberating and treacherous. We as a society must shed light on the parts of ourselves that are fragile, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or religious background. At the end of the day, we are all humans who share the same struggle in different forms. We have to create spaces to address these issues, so we can prevent these unpleasant behaviors from continuing. When you’re sure of yourself and make the conscious decision to address your problems, you become less susceptible to misinformation or manipulation of any kind.   

“The Shameless Slut”

Continuing the theme of reclaiming the narrative. Recently, I’ve been reframing what a muse means to me. In the pursuit to enhance the essence of being a muse, highlighting the significance of certain virtues was one of my main focuses. I’ve found that the most indispensable virtue is accountability. Holding yourself accountable for the decisions made, even if you didn’t know better, and examining the shortcomings, flaws, and mental processes that led to those decisions. Becoming aware of when my ego and my intensity are seizing control, and I need introspection. Many have the axiom that people who are considered attractive have a skewed perception of what the “real world” is. In retrospect, when you’re attractive, you’re able to see people’s most animalistic sides. If I had a dollar for every time a man told me his partner’s darkest secret in hopes that I might want to explore him, I’d be rich.

On the other hand, women often befriend other attractive women whom they perceive as a threat to keep them close, while never truly offering genuine friendship. The ego presents itself differently in men and women, but its only objective is to help us reconcile with our insecurity. The personification of being a muse isn’t about the superficiality of our society, such as clothing or status. It is solely based on good character and virtue. Aristotle believed that the only way for someone to be virtuous was through adversity; that’s why he rejected the idea that children could be virtuous. In my opinion, only half of that is true. With all the modern-day adversity that children face, many children might be more virtuous than their elders. Aristotle’s perception of how chaos can shape you is equivalent to understanding that you are both the marble and the sculptor. Ironically, this humanized what it means to become a muse. Oftentimes, others see the beauty of the marble that you’ve become, but they would rather neglect the idea that you work hard, and try to compare or attribute it to superficial things.

Staying true to my very literal persona. Accountability is defined as a liability to be called on to render an account or the obligation to bear the consequences for failure to perform as expected. My self-assurance may feel like an insult to some, especially when they realize that my harshest critic is myself. Some people are under the assumption that beauty relinquishes the ability to hold oneself accountable, so they make it their life’s mission to hold everyone “accountable. Not because you’ve actually committed a transgression, but because of their inability to inconvenience or control you. Humans have a problem with understanding that the control and power they presume they have over others is an illusion. An illusion that shatters the moment their scheme and plotting backfire. I’ve discussed rejection and betrayal, but the most recent news in the media cycle gave me another viewpoint on this. Yes, Thug and Gunna. Hearing the nefarious and spiteful laughs of a man deliberately scheming against his closest confidant due to his inability to control him, or in other words, Gunna’s inability to perform as Thug expected. When Gunna was released, I read his court documents, so I knew he was innocent from the beginning. But to watch how Thug smeared his reputation, name, and turned his associates against him was deplorable. The cost of being a muse is mastering cognitive processes that help with discerning when an obligation is yours to bear; Unfortunately, manipulators are at a disadvantage because of their inability to understand the foresight behind their actions. 

The ego sometimes feels like an unruly kid. Addressing your ego in moments where you might have to bear obligations that aren’t yours while deceivers run rampant is arduous. I believe that men use tools like money to let their true animalistic selves out, while women focus on being liked or being the center of attention. That’s why the worst guy you’ve ever met will commit crimes to satisfy his need for material possessions or to indulge in multiple women. Ego can appear in women by being male-centered or extremely envious towards other women who get more attention effortlessly. Looking back, there have been endless times where a “friend” has done or said something to gauge more attention than me. I’ve always been able to pick my choice of the litter since before I could properly write my name; the male gaze isn’t foreign to me. Like Aristotle said, only through these types of adversity can you truly become virtuous. Personally, I had to come to terms with how my ego shows up when I experience rejection. I’ll admit that I’m hardly ever upset about the people that “reject” me, but rather the act vexes me. How dare you not see how amazing I am? I realized that I was overpowered by my need to be a perfectionist in all aspects, even at the cost of being liked by people who are insignificant to me. As a muse, you’re not granted the luxury of having an unruly ego. You’ll find yourself a casualty of instability if you don’t control your ego.

Facing my ego is a constant act of knowing how to balance my intensity. First, admitting how intense I can be in my interpersonal relationships. In past romantic relationships, when I was emotionally invested, I wanted to literally merge souls, but if I started to feel inconsistent in your actions and words, I’d detach immediately and move on. This is the same for my platonic relationships, minus wanting to merge souls. I can admit that I don’t love unconditionally. I’ll only unleash my intense love and support for people who can reciprocate and are genuine about the basis of the relationship. One thing that Thug did that stuck out to me was how he kept reiterating the sacrifices he made and how present he was through Gunna’s journey. I realize that most people weaponize their support in hopes of having you so emotionally devoted that you’ll abandon yourself for them. I’m not humiliated to admit how committed and intense I can be with the ones I love, but I don’t love them more than I love myself. I don’t care what category of an agent of socialization that falls under in my life, I’ll love them on the conditions that I’ve set to maintain my peace, and that only thing I love more than my peace is God. The concept of being a muse requires control over your ego and discipline over your intensity.

It’s also important that we highlight the slur people like to attach to muses. It is comedic how they’ll first belittle you, then try to replicate later. I’ll refrain from elaborating on that aspect of human behavior, but I’ll focus more on how these slurs are often projections or an admission of guilt for how they’ve transgressed against you behind closed doors. My first time being called a slut was by a male harlot who was actively trying to talk to my “friends” while pursuing me. When a girl called me a “slut”, she posed as a friend but tried to get with my boyfriend behind my back. Thug went around calling Gunna a “rat” while filling in for Wendy Williams all behind a jail cell. I’m unfazed by these types of slurs because I’m aware of my given name, and I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done. Why would I answer to a name that isn’t mine? I had to learn to be okay with those who patronize me because they’re really just admirers who haven’t dealt with their insecurity. Unfortunately, I wasn’t created to carry the burden of someone else’s inadequacies or to be their subject to torment due to their lack of self-love. 

As a muse, you live in the intersection of numerous things. Epicurus says, “Whatever principles are set before you, stand fast by these laws, feeling that it would be impiety for you to transgress them. But pay no attention to what somebody says about you, for this at length, not under your control. Regardless of the adversity that you face, you must have laws in place to maintain discipline and control over yourself. Laws that even when the chaos outside of you is uncontrollable, you can’t override them for comfort. I hope that the thing that makes me a muse isn’t my beauty or the things that might be attached to me. But the fact that I dare to share the accumulation of the lessons I’ve learned through falling short of my duties as a muse. This shifted the significance of my purpose and self-concept. A shift that resulted in rituals and routines that keep me in alignment. Ritual has such a negative connotation, but it has to do with the things that keep us grounded. Like waking and baking with a nice cup of hot tea, or maintaining a self-care schedule. A part of our human design is to appreciate beautiful things even if that appreciation comes in the form of slander. You can only pay attention to the things you can control, release old ways, and partners that don’t benefit you. Allow yourself to be shamelessly yourself.

Is it my turn?

Bet you’re wondering what I’ll be discussing this week. I’m ready to admit the truth. Yes, I’m a villain. I’m charming, self-interested, and a bit egotistical at times. But I’m far from a reprobate villain; I’m indifferent to my opposition. This confession wasn’t hard for me because I’ve come to terms with the empathic narcissism that saved my life. I believe in self-preservation with no harm to anyone. I’m uninterested in hierarchies, unspoken social rules, or manipulative tactics. I led with empathy, but I’m not oblivious to the ruthless world around me. Simpleton often mistake empathy for a weakness they can exploit. Villains like Dexter and Mardara are highly revered in my book because of their duality. As I dive deeper into sociology and human behavior, I’ve uncovered that the main emotion that propels every villain’s ventures is grief. The inability to properly process grief and transmute vengeance is a key motivator in most villains’ rageful undertakings.

One of my favorite Frank Kafka quotes says, “I was ashamed of myself when I realized that life was a costume party and I attended with my real face.” Kafka’s work has a way of leaving me ruminating for days on end. Most people don’t dare to attend life’s parties with their real faces, the same way that some people can’t help but move in cohorts with others. I used to reject the premise that I was a villain, but not anymore. On multiple occasions, I played the native role so well with people who tried to manipulate me that they painted me as the villain. My self-assurance and confidence won’t allow me to step on someone else’s neck for an extra ego boost. Having the label of the villain placed on me wrongfully brought a level of vibrancy into my life that relinquished my desire to be understood by others. Individuality, authenticity, and empathy are expensive attributes that money can’t buy. This realization is the reason I’ve remained indifferent. 

Mardra Uchiha is by far one of the best villains in Naturo. Those born in the midst of warfare, grief, and bitterness were destined to be impacted by them. It’s undeniable that with wars comes casualty, but the loss of a loved one is difficult regardless of the circumstances. The loss of Mardra’s brother made him hostile and cynical. He truly believed that conflict and death were the only way to achieve true peace. Personally, his story is admirable because while everyone thought he was dead and gone, he disappeared to plot his retaliation. My first encounter with tragedy was my father’s funeral, more specifically, after the burial. I remember the smell of pity mixed with Haitian food, the words of encouragement, and the numerous small pieces of paper with contact information from strangers. Grief is kinda like black mold, silent but deadly. It has the power to radicalize your life in an unseen way. In the “Gift of Grief, Tanner discusses how grief offers opportunities to help establish or reestablish values and goals. In Marda’s case, his grief led him on a ruthless path to avenge the loss of his siblings. After years of compartmentalizing my grief, finally addressing the loss of my father brought me back to the goals and promises we made. 

Previously,  I discussed the effects of misinformation, which can result in ostracization. Along with the damaging slurs that are attached to you once you go from Muse to Villain. A transition where you’re forced to grieve the connection and that specific version of yourself. The role of the Villain is comfortable for me because I don’t fear the darkness, not in me or around me. Grieve taught me that no matter how much you might try to avoid it, you must walk its path, or else it will wait patiently on your return. I’ll be elaborating more on this next week.

“Live to tell the story.”

As I move through adulthood, memories of the girl I once was, lost in the depths of depression, cling to me. I am living out the vision I scribbled at sixteen, when I could barely muster the will to eat or bathe for months. Rather than celebrating my progress, those memories sour quickly, leaving a bitter aftertaste. I wrestle with a unique survivor’s guilt, tangled with grief. The sense that I abandoned my former self, and the grief that spills over, often robs me of sleep. In truth, I let her go so I could stay sane and save myself, in hopes of one day fully becoming the woman I am now. This week, I want to share my journey through survival guilt, the complexities of being a love child, and my experiences with rape culture and domestic violence.

My mother often tells me stories from her pregnancy with me, like how she would rest her hand protectively over her growing belly, feeling every flutter and kick as a promise of me to come. She spoke of health challenges, and my grandmother’s uncanny intuition about my gender even before the doctor did. Additionally, my Dad’s voice, filled with hope, would ask for a daughter. In my darkest moments, those stories remind me of how precious and loved I am. As I matured, the chaos and burden of being a love child became apparent to me, with chaos shadowing my interpersonal relationships until I addressed it. From rebellious teenage years to adulthood, chaos was both a catalyst for growth and a threat over my shoulder. This intimate dance with chaos forced me to recognize the inevitable cycle of death and rebirth in my life. My parents’ dynamic highlighted an unconventional love, yet one intertwined with deep admiration, that even after my father’s passing, my mother still reminisces fondly about the man he was. Though I love him dearly, I have never shied away from acknowledging his faults. Their story taught me that beautiful things can arise from chaos when love is the foundation.

“I’m gonna make you, Hannah Baker, I’m gonna be your 13th reason. In that moment when I was pinned down, violated, and was told to take my own life. A small part of me died, but a monster was born. She haunts me, and whenever I see her, vengeance and rage oozes from her pores. No matter how many accomplishments I cross off her list, she’s never satisfied. Every time she resurfaces, she brings me back to the backseat where I was gasping for air, the words of those who prophesied an 18-year-old me with a baby on my hip, and an abusive partner to go with it. No amount of compartmentalising could suppress her, just like grief, she awaited my return. Rape culture has a way of minimising the effects of coercion, falsification of consent, and non-physical force, which dissolve perpetrator from accountability.  

Zora Neale Hurston once said that “If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.” I’ve been blessed enough to have the opportunity to educate and heal enough to tell my story. Rape isn’t always aggressive and harsh; sometimes it starts with a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Before you know it, your vulnerability is weaponised and is misinterpreted for consent. Coercion is defined as the practice of persuading someone to do something by using force or threats and is considered a form of domestic violence. It’s hard to consider someone a rapist when they lead with duplicity, and the system usually blames the victims. I wouldn’t give any rapist the satisfaction by dwelling or sulking because I understand psychopathy. The things that healed and gave me back my sense of self were first acknowledging the pain that experience brought me. Then, validating it by educating myself on the underlying issues that perpetuate the cycles of rape culture, along with the people who enable it. 

As a teenager, I was the epitome of a rebel. Every summer or winter, I was enrolled in Chirstian girl bible study or retreat. Where they advise us to refrain from being in a romantic relationship or engaging in any sexual acts. By the time I was 14, I had a promise ring from my boyfriend of three years. That relationship ended because he slapped me so hard that the imprint of his palm remained on my face. I remember getting home from school and running to the bathroom to hide my face from my family. Shortly after, my next relationship consisted of being swept off my feet by a charm and sympathetic shoulder that quickly turned sour. I recall almost passing out while he choked me in the backseat, and his sister running to comfort me after the fact. I hardly ever dwell on those moments, but this past semester, I did a presentation for my public speaking class on domestic violence. The statistics on domestic violence in teen and same-sex relationships brought me back to that era in my life. The recent death of Girlala shone a light on how deadly these dynamics can be and how important it is not to be silent about your pain. Like Zora said, “they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it. 

As paradoxical as this might sound, I’m grateful for each of those bitter experiences. From being a love child to the violence I thought was love in my teenage years. I often find myself in dialogue with God, questioning why chaos felt second-natural to me. In acknowledging my pain and chaos, I was allowed to live to tell the story. With no resentment,  vowing to never become the very thing that hurt me, or an enabler to others’ pain. I’ve become a potentate through all of these experiences. One of my many purposes in life is to remain indifferent to these moments so that I can continue to share my story with other people who might feel alone in their darkest times. While dissolving any perpetrator, the honour of ever saying they killed me, and I enjoyed it.

“To forgive or not to forgive”

Epictetus was a philosopher who was sold into slavery as a child and then became an officer in Nero’s imperial guard. His intellect as a young slave afforded him an education that led to his teaching ethical philosophy in Rome, Epirus, and the Greek mainland. Understandably, growing up a child slave affected his teachings. Especially when it comes to confronting conflicts in our interpersonal relationships. However, Epictetus’s stance on sustaining relationships based on societal norms that require self-sacrifice is flawed.

In the second century, after his passing, his teachings still found a way to impact the early Christian writers. Verses like Romans 12:21 that say, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good,” expand on Epictetus’ view on betrayal. As a young girl, my inquisitive nature emancipated me from Sunday services. The idea that God loved me but opposed self-defending yourself against those who intentionally hurt you never concurred with me. “Just as a mark is not set up to be missed, so neither does the nature of evil arise in the universe” (Epictetus 106). Turning a blind eye to the unequal power balances in our dynamics can be fatal; no Abrahamic religion should conflict with safeguarding yourself. Specifically, if our proximity to those dynamics is in our control. 

The head of the family during the Roman era was a reflection of the unit’s honor and social standing. There was a strong emphasis on maintaining strong bonds amongst siblings to preserve status and prosperity. “To submit when he reviles or strikes you. “But he is a bad father.” Did nature, then, bring you into a relationship with a good father? No, but simply with a father” ( Epictetus 107). The quality of the interpersonal relationships within the family unit is hardly ever considered because of the titles they hold. Along with the fear of criticism from the community. The tragic death of Marvin Gaye is a modern-day example of how devastating fame can be.  

In the early 1980’s, Marvin Gaye returned home to live with his parents Marvin Sr. and Alberta. His father was a minister, a known cross-dresser, and a strict authoritarian in their household. When he returned home to take care of his mother, who was recovering from surgery, his relationship with his father remained stand- offish. To make amends with his father, Marvin gifted him a revolver for protection. Shortly after, his father started an argument over insurance papers, which resulted in Marvin’s death. Marvin tried to maintain relations with his father by buying him a house, a gun, and moving back home to help take care of his sick mother. Even though he brought honor and social standing to his family, it still led to his death at the hands of his own father. “Very well, then, maintain the relations that you have towards him; and do not consider what he is doing” ( Epictetus 107). Unlike the Roman era, it can be fatal to justify staying in relations with people who led with duplicity.  

 In the Encheiridion, Epictetus discusses the price we pay for our tranquility. He continues to elaborate on the importance of controlling what’s in our power by understanding that nothing goes without a price. It’s factual that we don’t have control over the outcome of our desires. “For it is better to die of hunger, but in a state of freedom from grief and fear, than to live in plenty, but troubled in mind” (Epictetus 103). It’s equitable to agree that Epictetus’s views on reevaluating our unpleasant experiences to maintain a sense of peace are sustainable. But the significance of Epictetus’s upbringing in slavery plays a part in the compliance with his own suffering. “And when you call your slave-boy, bear in mind that it is possible he may not heed you, and again, that even if he does heed, he may not do what you want done” (Epictetus 103). The continuous use of the analogy of slave and master is a focal point in creating a dynamic where one has limited power over the suffering they endure. In modern day, we can become slaves to our desires, but the suffering we endure is optional. Unlike a slave bound to their master, we have full autonomy over ourselves and the quality of the dynamics that we maintain.  

Epictetus often uses the kinships between families when deliberating on how conflict should be resolved. The assumption that those bound by blood should be waived of accountability is unethical. The relationship between Marvin Gaye and his father proved that point. But the death of Selena provides insight into the importance of not only holding your kin accountable but also those in proximity to you. “If your brother wrongs you, do not lay hold of the matter by the handle of the wrong that he is doing … but rather by the other handle that he is your brother” ( Epictetus 109).  The tragic events that led to her death began with the discovery that her manager, Yolanda, was embezzling thousands of dollars through her fan club and boutique. In the process of confronting her manager, she was shot and killed. If Selena held on to the fact that Yolanda was her manager and disregarded the money she was embezzling, she’d be out of millions of dollars. Even though she exchanged her life to hold her manager accountable. Selena was able to preserve her legacy by laying hold of the matter by the handle of the wrong that Yolanda was doing. 

Epictetus brings awareness to the control that we have over our existence. But his analogy of the idea of control is rooted in the relation between slave and master, which relinquishes the modern-day meaning of control. We have a full anatomy of our mind, body, and soul. There is no need to submit to unnecessary suffering for family or a greater purpose because loyalty or reciprocity isn’t guaranteed. 

“A eulogy to my erstwhile self”

As the year came to an end, it was time to take inventory. This year gave me clarity on a plethora of things, along with discovering my fullest potential and self-assurance in my ability to withstand the changes in my life. I’ve come to acknowledge the area of my life that I struggle with rather than compartmentalising. This past year forced me to revisit old wounds and properly grieve so I could move on, which has helped me reshape the concept of trust. This past year gifted me solitude that forced me to shed the armour that aided me through the hardest times in my life. In exchange for my armour, I’ve been able to morph into the woman I used to write about when I was a misguided teenager. 

There’s an African proverb that says, “The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.” The first time I read this quote was in my first year of college, and it didn’t quite resonate with me the way it does now. Even though I’ve matured in many areas in my life, I can honestly say that forgiveness isn’t a virtue I’ve mastered. One piece of advice both of my parents have given me is not to hold grudges, yet I still struggle with vengeance. It is mainly because even in my anger, I’m still considerate. This year, I healed from the betrayals I experienced by reframing the concept of forgiveness. Religion tells us to forgive those who hurt us, but forgiveness isn’t about the perpetrators. I constantly have to remind myself that forgiveness is about releasing the trauma from my body and regulating myself. Rome wasn’t built in a day, so I’ve given myself grace when it comes to forgiveness and my need for vengeance.

Recently, I had a dream in which all the people in my village admitted they had intentionally antagonised me, but wanted to set the parameters for how I should retaliate. The dream was vivid, with their faces filled with fear, and they spoke about the motives behind their actions. The odd part of this dream was that I hadn’t spoken to these people in months, or even years. Spiritually, dreams are seen as a source for messages, guidance, and integration. This past year was when I learned about the origins of different religions, such as Shinto, Taoism, and Jainism. This led me to appreciate the connection I have with God, the higher power, and those who watch over me in spirit. As I entered the new year, that dream was a reminder that, despite whatever might happen behind my back, no one can play God in my life. I move through life with Isaiah 54:17 as a nudge from God that no one is bigger than the plan already laid out for me. 

Lauryn Hill once said in one of her live performances, “Everything not growing is dead, so we better be changing.” As hardbody as I might seem, Lauryn Hill has been one of the few artists who can bring tears to my eyes. Sometimes it takes someone who has been in your position to give you advice on how to move forward in those seasons when you can’t avoid the changes. Hill released only one album before stepping away from music due to changes in her personal life. Her story is a testimony that you can’t heal in the places that hurt you, but that you can use the turmoil you experience as a catalyst for change in your life. Being away from my family, community, and friends for a year healed in unimaginable ways. I felt like I finally jumped off the hamster wheel, and a sense of overwhelming peace came over me. Peace forced me to acknowledge the vices I used as an emotional crutch to regain some self-assurance. It took being disciplined in constantly fasting and dieting throughout the year for me to properly heal and accept that I was changing. 

One important fact is that I hardly remember what people say to me, but I always remember how they made me feel. Especially when I was already having a hard time. My sophomore year, going into my junior year, my depression reached an all-time low, but the discouraging words that were spoken to me during that era acted as an echo chamber to motivate me. I’ve grown to appreciate the chaos that I was born into, raised in, and sometimes created for myself. Chaos can either make or break the muse. I’vee discussed how accountability helped me pivot the direction of my life, but it also helped in rediscovering my vast potential. 

That recent dream, with the faces of the people I thought had my best interests at heart, left me questioning who I could trust. The concept of trust has a bit of duality. I’mm aware that anyone at any time given the opportunity will take advantage of you for their benefit, but on the other hand, what’ss a life if youcan’tt fully trust anyone? This past year taught me to trust myself first, then to trust everyone else to be themselves. In the past, I struggled to see people for who they were because I either loved them ordidn’tt want to let them go. Once I was forced to let these people go, I was able to work through my trust issues. It also gave me the space I needed to make sense of the turmoil I faced at the hands of the very people I loved. Honestly, based on that dream, Idon’tt think the growth and maturity I gained from those situations were the intended result. 

NonethelessI’m’m grateful for the lessons learned. From a spiritual standpoint, I feel like a lot of the turmoil I experienced early was a deal I made with God to make amends for both my parents and my past life karma. NowI’m’m in my early 20s, but I feel likI’veve lived 4 different lives with the understanding of a 40-year-oldThat’s’s probably whI’m’m so indifferent to all of the turmoil and betrayaI’veve experiencedI’m’m just blessed enough to still experience love and trust. 

2025 was a year full of self-discovery and clarity. For the first time in my life, couldn’t’t smoke or work out my feelings away. It felt like God cornered me and forced me to see all thingI’veve been avoiding. I ’m blessed enough to still be alive and well. May 2026 be full of more blessings and understanding. 

“ A love letter to those who freed me”

“ Voodoo encompasses an exceedingly complex religion and magic… developed for thousands of years, perhaps longer than any other of today’s established religions,” says Milo Rigaud. (Rigaud) Voodoo is defined as the introspection into the unknown. Essentially, Voodoo as a religion is categorized as occultism because of the rituals, chants, and symbols that are incorporated into the practice.

More than 60 million of its adherents are actively practicing Voodoo worldwide, from Africa to Cuba. (Guynup) Many individuals detest Voodoo because of the phantoms and traditions that are associated with the theology, despite the manumission that it provided for adherents. The origin of Voodoo comes from the Fon people, natives of West Africa, specifically Benin. The Fon people’s version of Voodoo is known as Vodun.

(Ray) The slave trade of the 17th century is responsible for the integration of Voodoo practices into Haitian culture, which later was used as a tool for the liberation of slaves. During the Haitian Revolution, many slaves used Christianity and Catholicism as a mask to avoid any punishments from slave owners while planning their rebellion using Vodoo. This leads us to the next important factor in understanding the origin of Vodoo, which is the amalgamation of Catholicism. During the era when Saint-Domingue (modern-day Haiti) was under French rule, the declared religion was Catholicism. Religion was a tool used by slave owners to indoctrinate their slaves into submission.

The difference between Christianity and Catholicism is that many aspects of Catholicism are incorporated into Voodoo rituals. Those who practice Voodoo have contradictory opinions on the incorporation of Catholicism because it’s a reminder of a difficult period. The aftermath of the Haitian Revolution led to the Louisiana Purchase, which resulted in a significant influx of Haitian immigrants to the United States. The migration of Haitian slaves to the United States, along with enslaved Africans already living in New Orleans, gave rise to Vodou.

Each spelling is specific to a particular group or region of people. It can be spelled as“Voodoo”, “Vodun”, or “Vodou”. Milo Rigaud’s “Secrets of Voodoo” provides insight into the different regions while elaborating on the symbols, rituals, Gods, and practitioners of Voodoo. Milo Rigaud was born in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, in the early 1900s. Besides studying the Voodoo tradition, he also studied psychology and theology while living in France.

My earliest memory of my father reminding me of this was on our weekly shopping trips. I was probably 8 years old at the time, and as we left the plaza, he told me to never depend on a man. At that age, I w

“Bee & BItches”

My recent visits to both the World’s Erotic Art Museum and the Museum of Sex have given me another perspective on how we express our mutual desires for intimacy. Living in a patriarchal world has tinted the way we can discuss the true impact of sex, but the arts give us the freedom to express it freely. These museums had expressions of love translated through explicit sculptures, paintings, and poetry that go back centuries. Owning your sexuality and sensuality as a woman feels like the most political act ever committed. It solidifies your desires, freedoms, and rights. Before you’re able to freely navigate this world, it’s important to remember that you’re prey to men.     

My earliest memory of my father reminding me of this was on our weekly shopping trips. I was probably 8 years old at the time, and as we left the plaza, he told me to never depend on a man. At that age, I was confused and completely disregarded his words as the babble of an old man. This memory of my father unpromptedly telling me to stand on my own is the reason why I own who I am as a woman today. I’m fully aware how devious men are, yet I fully own my space, my beliefs, and desires. Not only do my father’s words linger in the back of my head, but the devious acts of the men in this world, like sex islands with children on them, plague the world. Women must be aware of how powerful and political it is to own our bodies. The portraits that inspired me the most depicted women in dominant spaces, owning the room fully and demanding that all fall to their knees. 

As a young woman, my ability to freely express myself often leaves men questioning if I’m heterosexual. In my opinion, they only draw that conclusion because they can’t fathom a world where a woman doesn’t crave their validation or company. But walking through these museums validated something in me that no one man could ever. Being able to admire portraits depicting women in their most primal state was something that my 20s needed. I hope to continue to grow in my sensuality and continue to embody the scandalous energy that it brings. 

The truth behind embracing my sensuality is the reminder that there are men out here with extremely primal instincts. They prey on loneliness and insecurity and use shame to do it. In my next entry, called “ bad dick and disrespect”, I’ll explore the nature of these behaviors. 

20 something

Apparently, writing is written in the cards for me. I’ve been avoiding writing and poetry because I’m going through my version of a midlife crisis. This past year has exposed me to so much that I’m rethinking every decision that I’ve made up until this point. I’m not ashamed or regretful of anything I’ve done, but I wonder if I’m on the right path. In the past few months of ignoring my desire to write, I’ve become more aware of how much I disregard my own intuition. I’ve been floating in the heavenly place that is my mind, grasping for a concept to write about, all while ignoring my gut. I realized that I had disengaged with the things I love. All things art, music, and nature were pushed aside. This blog requires a level of intimacy and vulnerability that I’m not sure I’m ready for, but I’m committed to easing my way back into it. 

My latest day trip to Miami led me to the World Erotic Art Museum. This entailed the earliest depiction of sex being illustrated in art form. (Visions of love: Erotic art throughout the ages, n.d.) At first, I was taken aback, but after a few minutes, the beauty of the exhibit was revealed. On my journey through the exhibit, a book called “ The sexual history of World War” was placed on my path. To my surprise, the book explored the eroticism of nurses, the sex life of war prisoners, and propaganda around sex. (Reiss, 2018) During my sabbatical, I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’m a raging misandrist. I believe that men use sex as a means to degrade women rather than a way to pleasure them. That’s why I believe that women should have ownership of their sexuality, and they are the personification of God. We have wombs that create just like God created the water, plants, and humans. The sexual pleasure of a woman can create life and give birth to new ideas. Which led me to question why sex is demonized when its history runs through centuries of war, famine, and distress? When did the thing that gave us hope in companionship, mutual admiration, and a form of harmony between lovers become soiled with pessimistic concepts? 

Even as a self-aware misandist, I can admit I prefer romantic pursuits that reflect to me that love is stronger than ego and pride. Walking through that exhibit and basking in the beauty of how our primal need for pleasure has been carried on through history. Understanding what sex meant to Buddhists and the impact it had on those in Asia during imperial times through hand-drawn scrolls was life-changing. Icons like Marilyn Monroe and Josephine Baker were highlighted with portraits and personal artifacts that reflected their comfort in their carnal desires. I’ve discussed what it means to be a Muse already, but this gave a more intimate perspective of the women who are my muses. An adolescent version of myself made the false deduction that sex was equivalent to love. While love and trust should be the foundation of sharing one’s body, sometimes the most intimate thing is the expression of love. Not just the physical labor of sex, but the emotional labor that being intimate requires. The ability to embrace in mutual admiration and harmony despite the troubles that plague the world is deeper than any form of physical intimacy. The museum made me realise that sex wasn’t this grave sin or tainted action but a deeply spiritual one. 

Even though I don’t truly value male validation when it comes to how I live my life. I’ve come to learn that sexual desires are things that men will always shame women for. Like the Haitian I am, I’m not asking for my sexual liberation; I fully own it. I realized that my past relationships were just an extension of my self-love and inability to demand what I wanted at the time; however, that might translate. The spiritual act of being intimate with unrequited admiration on any level can alter how sexuality is expressed. Since I love myself without ego, pride, or contradicting circumstances present, unfortunately, I won’t settle for the bare minimum. This fact might be the reason why I’ve become selective with who I let into my world. I’m not only self-assured in myself but also in demanding what I want in my intimate relationship, whether sexual or non-sexual. The truth is that this assurance in myself came through my ability to allow love into my life and experience it fully, even when it hurts. I spent my teenage years yearning for love through physicality rather than raw emotions. Now, the only way to bring me to my climax is through embracing my depth, no matter how intense it might get.

Baddie with brainrot

I’m feeling overwhelmed with sonder. As I sit on this train on this rainy day, the weight of responsibility in my life starts to weigh on me. The people walking and driving by are probably having this same realization for a totally different reason. The side effect of feeling such a deep sense of sonder under these conditions is the polarity of feeling like everything and nothing at the same time. I feel insignificant yet invaluable to the world. I’m writing this after taking time off from my blog. Even when I’m unmotivated, the desire to write never truly leaves; my desire to share remains constant. Going on solo dates always gives me a sense of reassurance in myself, which is why I value my solitude. This pause helped improve my creative process and thinking. However, the downside was that I realized I had avoided the things I love because I was afraid of the person I would become. 

I’ve distracted myself by over-consuming every vice I have. I’ll be the first to admit that I might have some control issues. I’m either all in or all out. Even when my desire to completely stop sharing my writing came over me, I felt called to find inspiration for my writing. My soul yearned for art, experience, and a change of scenery. I’ve watched over 10 different films in hopes that my desire for writing didn’t run out. I allowed my romantic partnerships to take me to different scenic routes to ease the visual famine that I’ve been afflicted with.  

A dark cloud of fomo rained on my pity party, and as these feelings intensified, I began to fear that my ideas would disappear into the abyss. This realization sparked the additional concern that I was not living up to my fullest potential. To cope, I found myself settling in many areas of my life, believing it was necessary to maintain some level of control to stay comfortable. For instance, my lover was not satisfying me, my job was draining my peace with high school drama, and my journal was collecting dust in the corner of my room. Ultimately, my need for control convinced me that having something was preferable to having nothing at all. However, now I have reached a point where I am uncomfortable with merely settling.

I find myself at a crossroads, faced with the decision to leave behind my comfort or to place my trust in the uncertainty of the universe. In moments of overwhelm, I am reminded of the saying: birds trust their wings, not the branch. This metaphor highlights the necessity of self-reliance and the courage to embrace risk to move through adversity. Ultimately, I realize that true growth requires me to let go of what feels secure and trust in my own abilities to navigate challenges, rather than remaining stagnant out of fear. In doing so, I aim to move beyond mere comfort and actively pursue the person I aspire to become.

“Bad D*ck and disresepct”

“I’m a grown ass man,” words that men scream from the top of their lungs to proclaim manhood. Recently, some bad dick and disrespect enlightened me to some harsh truths and left me questioning my decision. I’ve been plagued with questions of who I am first, woman, human, or black. Which should I identify with to navigate my emotions? Am I just an emotional woman who’s unable to properly express her emotions? Am I a human with a normal capacity for emotions? Or am I an angry black woman? How should I move through the world? What’s appropriate for me to express? I’m riddled with questions, but I have emotion on stand-by waiting for processing. I would consider myself to be a level-headed person when it comes to making decisions and processing my emotions. But these questions have revealed to me that I might need some new methods of decision-making and emotion processing. 

At this age, I faced the decision on how I wanted to approach my love life, my career, and my relationship with my mother. Being in my early 20’s has taught me that I don’t have the answers, I’m not Sway. My love life continues to reveal parts of myself that I remain unaware of. It revealed my capacity to love greatly and unconditionally to a fault. This same behavior translates with my mother. My love is boundless like the ocean. That can make for a beautiful yacht vacation or a devastating tsunami. I realized that my interpersonal relationships don’t accommodate my duality. Part of the blame falls on me for never expressing myself fully, but those days are over. 

Maturity requires a level of accountability from me for all parts of my life. But, when is it appropriate to change? After so much putting people before myself, I think it’s time to shift my focus to putting myself first. My desire, passion, and happiness were put on the back burner to maintain partners, jobs, and approval from my mother. The decision to put myself first caused me to question which I should identify with to fully shift into my desire, passion, and happiness.  

Honestly, a canon that every 20-something has to go through is dating a total bum, and I don’t mean that literally. Through some bad sex, I’ve learned that most men are morally bankrupt, and no amount of money can reverse that debt. No point in rejecting my own sensuality and need for true pleasure just to settle for some bad dick and disrespect.

“Pity party”

I’m feeling overwhelmed with sonder. As I sit on this train on this rainy day, the responsibility of my life starts to weigh on me. The people walking and driving by are probably having this same realization for a totally different reason. The side effect of feeling such a deep sense of sonder under these conditions is the polarity of feeling like everything and nothing at the same time. I feel insignificant yet invaluable to the world. Writing this after taking time off from my blog and even when I’m unmotivated, the desire to write never truly leaves. My desire to share is what goes with the wind. Going on solo dates always gives me a sense of reassurance in myself, which is why I value my solitude. This pause helped improve my creative process and thinking. The downside was the realization that I avoided the things I love because I’m afraid of the person that I’ll become. 

I’ve distracted myself by over-consuming every vice I have. I’ll be the first to admit that I might have some control issues. I’m either all in or all out. Even when my desire to completely stop sharing my writing came over me, I felt called to find inspiration for my writing. My soul yearned for art, experience, and a scenic change. I’ve watched over 10 different films in hopes that my desire for writing didn’t run out. My romantic partnerships take me on adventures to different scenic routes to feed the visual famine that I’ve been afflicted with.  

A dark cloud of fomo rained on my pity party. I feared that my ideas would disappear into the abyss. I fear that I wasn’t living to my fullest potential. I can admit that I’ve been settling in many areas of my life. to maintain some level of control and stay comfortable. My lovers weren’t satisfying me, my job was draining my peace with high school drama, and my journal was collecting dust in the corner of my room. My need for control sold the dream that it was better to have something than nothing at all. Now, I’ve reached a point where I’m uncomfortable settling.

I’ve come to this crossroad. I can choose to abandon my need for comfort or truly surrender to the universe. Whenever I feel overwhelmed with emotions, I remember a quote about birds trusting their wings rather than the strength of a branch. It’s the ultimate illustration of self- preservation through nature’s eyes. It highlights that even nature has to take risks and trust that they have the necessary tools to fly out of any compromising circumstance. 

Emotionally illiterate

“Make the money, don’t let the money make you ”. I’ve heard that quote more than I would like, but the truth is that money has shaped me. From the first time I touched my first real paycheck in high school, it became an addiction. An addiction that affects my relationship, goals, and passion. My love for money has me working extra shifts instead of spending time with my loved ones, studying for my finals, or writing for my blog. For the past two months, I’ve been working overtime shifts instead of feeding my mind. I’ve worked past the point of exhaustion, resulting in feeling illiterate in many areas of my life. Not only has my reading time disappeared, but the time that I need to engage with my emotions has also become less of a priority for me. I’m embarrassed to admit that the money has made me illiterate in my own life. 

The first step in releasing the strong hold that money has on me was reconnecting with my body. I’m back dancing, working out, and doing my hot yoga. As my body matures, I can sense the constant changes that my body undergoes. The body that I had in high school could work 16-hour days and still make it to school by 8:30 a.m. (Yes, I was always late to school.) Now, I can feel every hour that I overwork my body. Just as I can feel when my body is being overworked, I know when my mind is yearning for a change of pace. 

I’ve always been a fan of mindfulness meditation and breathing. This method has always been my go-to for grounding myself and realigning my values with actionable steps. Recently, I’ve begun incorporating Pilates into my routine to sweat out the stress, engage, and tone my core. Pilates is more mental than it is physical. It takes a serious level of endurance to push through a session and come back even if you’re sore. 

As the months pass, I find myself drifting away and returning. I’m never sure of where I’m drifting to, but I always return with a different version of myself. Maybe feeling illiterate in a life I was so sure about is a blessing in disguise. Maybe the powers that be are asking me to reconsider my priorities and shine a light on the areas that I’m not trying hard enough.  

“hard head, soft a**”

Today I opened the Bible and found my grandmother’s obituary in the Book of Jonah. As someone who’s known to do her things and break rules, I understood why the higher power led me to read this specific book in the Bible. I’m not big on religion because I’ve learned that attachment to anything in this lifetime will cause suffering, even if it’s an attachment to understanding God. This is the exact reason why I admire Monks; Fundamentally, their life is in a constant state of acceptance, which allows them to remain peaceful and experience true happiness. 

As I continued to read, the 5th grader in me told me to grab a highlighter and highlight what resonated with me. Even though I still sometimes stumble over the “art “ and “doest”, I tried to make sense of the message. Jonah was one of God’s rebellious prophets, one I’d considered to be the best oxymorons in the Bible. What does it mean to be a prophet but go against the exact thing that you praise? Jonah learned the lesson of forgiveness and to walk in God’s purpose, regardless of his personal beliefs. Even though I was in complete denial while reading the Book of Jonah, I knew exactly what I needed to do. 

With age, I’ve grown to understand that you must pray to understand rather than to be understood. I know now how to appreciate prayer and my Bible more; only through those two things will you truly understand why you’re on this earth. Don’t do it for religious purposes, do it to understand. Pray that you learn and understand how to live a fulfilling life regardless of your personal feelings. The Bible is filled with stories that can be your compass throughout this lifetime. 

Back to Jonah, God gave him an order to go to the city of Nineveh and preach his word. Jonah, confused by why God would send him to a city filled with people who weren’t known to listen to the word of God. He decided that he would go in the opposite direction that God sent him. He boarded a Boat with a bunch of non-believers, and in the midst of his journey, the boat got caught up in a storm. The men on the boat went to Jonah in hopes that this prophet would help them through this storm. He offered himself and was thrown off the boat, where he was then swallowed by the beast. He spent three nights and three days in the belly of the beast. Within that time, he repented. God, being the God that he is, allows the beast to spit Jonah back out and sends him back on the mission to Nineveh. When Jonah arrived and preached God’s word, the people of Nineveh proclaimed a fast. Not only did the King proclaim the fast, but it was also published throughout the city. 

Instead of Jonah being grateful that he fulfilled God’s mission, he remained angry. He was upset that God forgave the people of Nineveh and wished to die rather than live. He found a shelter east of Nineveh, waiting to see what might happen to the city. Even though Jonah sounded like a spoiled kid, God allowed a tree to grow over him to ease the discomfort of the sun. The next day, a worm ate the tree up, leaving Jonah without any shade. God then asks Jonah, “ Is it right for you to be angry?” He then explains how, even though Jonah did not tend or grow the tree, it still sprang up and died overnight. God then says, “Should I not have a concern for the great city of Nineveh, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left, and also many animals?” 

Daddy’s Daughter

It is often said that we decided to be reincarnated on Earth. I’ve often imagined God handing me a folder with my interests, hobbies, hardships I might experience, goals that I’ll achieve, and the lessons I’ll learn. I wouldn’t trade any lesson or hardship for anyone else’s life; fortunately, my understanding of tools like astrology and religion has given me a new perspective on why I’m here. Even in the midst of uncertainty, the feeling of being called for something greater lingers. That calling sometimes haunts me like Michael haunts Laurie. In my pursuit to understand why I chose to reincarnate in this lifetime, I’ve looked to astrology for some answers. Maybe the stars have the answers that I seek. 

 One of my brief hobbies was to study astrology. I stumbled across an astrology book while working on my summer paper for my religion class. It broke down the meaning of each planet, placement, the signs, and the degrees. My curious nature led me to look up my own chart along with my parents’ and partners’ placements. Honestly, I experienced a mixture of being grossed out and tickled at my parents’ charts. Growing up, I always remember my mother being the dominant and fiery of my two parents. I can recall numerous times when my mother would be having a full-on fit, but my father always remained calm, cool, and collected. I’ve always been an observant child, and as an adult, it has taught me to believe people the first time. Whether it’s how they show you who they are or the capacity they have to be an active member in your life. Honestly, I’ve become skeptical of people with an animalistic nature. 

The placements that stood out to me the most were our Moon, Rising, and Venus. My mother has a fire Venus, my father an air Venus, and mine is in a water sign. To an untrained ear, that sounds like a bunch of word vomit. But it validated the dynamic that I observed as a child. It also led me to work on approaching my courtships more effectively without neglecting the things I value the most. Growing up, my father never sugar-coated the truth to me about the multiple women he had in his youth; that’s probably why he often lectured me on the importance of independence. Comparing our charts gave me some insights into why I agreed to reincarnate with these specific cards.

As I’ve matured, one lesson that has kept me sane is never putting all my eggs into one basket. Whether that’s dating more than one partner, having multiple hobbies, or using different tools that I use to understand my purpose for reincarnation. The stars tell the story of why I chose my parents, this era, and my specific purpose on this earth.