Dear readers,
The ground’s way more real than the sky, but we keep dreaming of the sky ’cause up there, nothing comes with a price tag.
Jam Session, straight-up vibes haha
Y’all know, my beloved readers, this is the diary of a fallen angel—not bc God got kicked out, but ’cause I got bored of all that perfection overload.
These are the apocryphal scribbles of someone who didn’t fall as punishment… but for the thrill of diving into the messy, imperfect stuff 😏
Sometimes I think Earth’s hell or worse (if all this exists)…
It’s a low-budget film set where we’re all stuck acting in the same soap opera: “The Clean Conscience.” Because it sounds better when we’re cast as the victim.
And you might hit me with:
“But why don’t you just cut the scene and bolt?”
Baby, it’s easier to give in to temptation than to run.
Why bounce… when sin comes with a banging soundtrack?
We’re all out here playing versions of ourselves,
scribbling excuses like they’re movie scripts,
Repeating scenes ’cause, let’s be real, if we were actual stars… we wouldn’t be drowning our sorrows in cheap booze behind the set.
‘Cause saying “no” is noble.
But saying “yes” make us guilty… and that gets ratings haha
But alright, let’s turn down the existential drama and crank up the sass 😎
The other day, chilling with a friend of mine, he told me that my fave playwrights, August Strindberg, lost gis zest for life in his final years.
For a hot second, I bought it.
Then, while writing, it hit me…
It’s not that Strindberg lost the spark.
Nah.
He got it.
He figured out that the big mystery of being alive is one absurd joke—a structure we were trained to repeat without ever questioning.
He got it, but like showing up late to the opera ‘cause of traffic… same deal today.
We put things off thinking, “I’ve got all the time in the world,” but back then, my friends, those grapes turning to raisins couldn’t undo the fact they missed the show.
Look, pals, life’s freaking incredible. Living it is a shot I’ll never stop romanticizing—that’s why I’m all about freedom. But when you get it, you realize you’ve only got two paths: be the spectacle or just watch it.
It’s super sad how folks get stuck on lo freaking automatic ‘cause it’s free…
While others are out here with VIP tickets to nostalgia for the past.
Everything’s so performative now it’s almost embarrassing—so predictable it doesn’t even *feel* anymore.
Authenticity these days? It’s recorded on reels with background music and rehearsed faces.
It’s all theater… nothing feels real.
I’m writing to you today from a gorgeous spot, sipping a coffee that tastes like heaven.
And like everything real, it *burns*.
Y’all ready to scorch your tongues?
This week I read a quote:
“Some people ruin the sweetest people, then call them crazy or toxic when they finally react to the disrespect.”
I thought: Another script for eternal victimhood… viral phrases locked in cages.
Quotes like that just breed folks who stay on the defensive, chasing some kind of “forever” vibe. It’s an emotional self-help industry bottled up as “I want something real, but don’t you dare touch my scars.”
Self-help without self-awareness is just ego dressed up as healing.
Yesterday, a friend posted a story with one of those influencers dropping lines like, “You don’t know what it cost me to rebuild—don’t question my new way of loving.”
OMG, I told my friend, “That’s like falling back in love from a victim mindset.”
Friends, loving from victimhood is like expecting everyone else to tiptoe around your scars when you’re the laser that can heal them.
And look, I know it sounds like I’m not empathetic, but that’s not it. Like, hell yeah, I’m stoked you got over your ex, a tough situation, or whatever—but we can’t go through life blaming everything outside us for what’s going on inside. It’s rough, I get it, but you gotta work inward on whatever hit you from the outside.
It’s like some folks use pain as a fast-track pass at the airport to skip the line of emotional responsibility. You’re not living—you’re surviving under the banner of “better not face my feelings.”
Time to hop off the emotional flight with your own baggage. You keep circling ‘cause you’re not drawing new lines.
Me? Yeah, I’ve wanted to run, to bandage myself up when it comes to emotions. But you know what? Once, a guy told me, “Kim, you can’t run from emotions—you gotta face them.” And after chewing on that, breaking it down, it was the most rational thing anyone’s ever said to me.
Back in my mom’s day, I feel like people faced their emotions head-on more than we do now. These days, there are too many distractions, or they tell you, “Live your emotions intensely!”Damn! Facing your feelings is one thing—living ruled by your mood swings is another.
This week I also saw a quote:
If you live in the past, you’ll be depressed.
If you live in the present, you’ll be stressed.
If you live in the future, you’ll be anxious.
After that, I was like, guess the recipe is to live a little of everything. They’re basically saying: live… but not too much. Breathe… but chill. Feel… but don’t mess it up.
It’s like an emotional diet with no salt or sugar. And then we wonder why we’re all mentally malnourished? 😅🧐
Introspection time:
Is healing pricier than facing an emotion?
Or is it just how we grow—dodging ourselves?
Nah, we don’t grow broken, and healing ain’t expensive—it’s the therapist you pay monthly who’s pricey. The real cost of heartbreak, of disillusionment, is just that no one teaches us how to deal with ourselves growing up. We’re taught to handle the world around us, not the one inside. We grow up sidestepping the mirror, then pay for therapy so someone else can tell us what that ignored little voice was saying all along, no degrees or jargon needed.
Friends, I’m dead serious—we can’t keep living off the “poor me” script. It’s not about lacking empathy; it’s about lacking self-love.
Chasing external validation or help won’t make you feel better—the help’s inside you.
Let’s stop using insecurities like a credit card to justify immature behavior.
This society’s walking a tightrope between materialism and emotions. And when they fall, they get a reality check.
Everyone’s sipping coffee, but decaf, just so folks can see how cool they look with their drink—nobody knows the behind-the-scenes.
The trick is moving through the world judging everything rationally and chasing authenticity—our essence in the maze that we are. I know it’s like stepping into a dark, endless night with just a flashlight and no map, but I swear it feels better.
Our essence is what makes each of us incredible as humans. Your essence doesn’t have to be bitter—it can be sweet, tangy, or all over the place—but don’t trade it for some trendy vibe.
And listen: I’m not denying pain.
What I’m calling out is how it turns into an excuse. A flag. Emotional marketing.
We’re so busy looking outward we forget to look in.
All the time: it’s their fault, the trauma’s fault, the situation’s fault.
But almost never: I failed myself by idealizing. I failed myself by staying when the fire was gone. I failed myself by not wanting to be alone.
That’s why I’ll always say: Illusions are dangerous.
They build cities in your mind where *you* live…
while the other person doesn’t even know there are streets named after them.
It’s not their fault.
They don’t know the weight you put on them.
The situation probably never had the foundation to hold up.
And the worst thing you can do is think someone belongs to you.
It hurt when someone left. You feel they didn’t value you. You’re stuck in a graveyard where your relationships lie like failures?
But real talk—your emotional mess didn’t come with a cleaning service included. This ain’t Airbnb, folks. No one’s staying in a house even *you* don’t wanna live in.
Just added to my philosophies:
*If vanity’s the devil’s favorite sin, and Earth’s hell, it makes sense why I’ve got no regrets.*
Why? ‘Cause if I’m already on this stage, under the lights of desire and other people’s judgment… baby, I’ve always had my own glow.
Life’s better when you stop blaming others for what happens to you.
I’m not chasing being understood—I’m loving being awake while everyone else is still snoozing, dreaming about what’s around them.
**Bye for now!**
