No “Choose happiness” slogans doodled on a Starbucks cup here… This isn’t a Pinterest mood board—this is a straight-up hit to the ego 😒
Call it temptation, call it truth—either way, it doesn’t wear a halo.
The world isn’t a stage; it’s a damn pressure cooker.
Truth isn’t cute. It’s raw. It’s rude.
And yeah, it might make you squirm.
But it’s the kind of discomfort that burns off your illusions. Growth buddy—not fluff.
Amor Fati:
“Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”
—Marco Aurelio
Cute, right? Except loving fate isn’t romantic—it’s feral.
It’s not passive acceptance.. it’s dancing barefoot through fire bc control is the biggest myth we bought into.
Plans? Fragile.
Order? Fabricated.
Control? A bedtime story for adults with anxiety. 😮💨
The greatest modern mirage is: You can control your path if you plan everything well.
Accepting is fighting against that illusion, not submitting to it.
So what do you do when life drops chaos in your lap?
You don’t cry over spilled vibes. You sip your coffee, throw on a grin, and swim in it—no lifeboat, no map, just vibes and velocity.
Trust your energy, not your expectation.. 🤷♀️
Always with the best simple vibes, but this week felt like building a Lego set with no instructions.
My approach to life? Straight-up, no nonsense.
If things start getting messy, snip, I cut it off.
Inner peace is an active choice, not just a vibe. But this week, confusion tried to throw shade, Nah, it was just a little fog—like driving on a misty road, you pull over, chill, and wait it out. 😎🌫️
Here’s one of my new philosophies:
“Anxious people fear the future, stressed ones dread the present, and the depressed cling to the past.”
You are not just what you feel.
You are when you feel it… and how you stand up to it.
Here’s the three-sided mirror I use to got life—no judgment, no victimhood, just showing the emotional root of time in a flat circle.
You can’t live in fear. Life’s a maze with no map or flashlight—just you and the sound of your own breath.
Those who fear what’s coming run aimlessly.
Those who fear the present buckle under its weight.
Those who fear the past drag a corpse on their shoulders.
Each of us lives in a different dimension of the same maze.
Want out? Stop fearing the timeline.
I started watching True Detective, and the main character, Rust Cohle, drops this:
“We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self; an accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody is nobody.”
Harsh? Yeah.
Real? Also yeah.
Easy to swallow? Nope.
Why?
Because the “self” is what makes us think we’re better than everyone else.
The self is not a pedestal,
it’s a functional mirage.
And knowing this doesn’t weaken you, it makes you freer.
But here’s the thing: accepting what we are doesn’t shrink the “self”—it amplifies it. It’s about knowing who we are, facing our emotions with reason, not knee-jerk reactions.
What’s the point of life without a constant challenge?
Let go of moral leashes disguised as wisdom.
“Put others first” or “Sacrifice for love”
Folks, those aren’t virtues—they’re training collars.
Self-respect isn’t selfish.
It’s survival with sparkle.
Don’t give away your freedom believing that’s love.
Want real freedom? Let go of the need to “understand everything.”
Hand the remote to the universe.
Let it shuffle the playlist.
You’re not lost—you’re evolving.
I’m not saying don’t care about others—I’m saying caring about yourself isn’t wrong.
This is affective responsibility toward oneself.
When I heard that character say that line, I’ll admit, it rubbed me the wrong way.
But later, he says something I’ll paraphrase:
“When you close your eyes, it might be dark, but the light lives in your memories.”
My meaning: “Life is always you vs. you. Everyone else is a mirage of your own consciousness. You create the reality you believe in.”
Gossip sesh:
At the gym this week—lifting, thriving—chatting with my gym bro.
I’m like, “Weird, I’m losing weight.”
He’s like, “Tons of cardio?”
I shoot him that look: “Don’t come for me like that, okay?”
Added, “I’ve got a baby dog, I’m celibate, and yes, by choice.”
He goes, “How do you even manage?”
And I’m like, “Easy. It’s a bet with my bestie in New York.
He dared me to stop chasing heat. So now, I channel it.”
He blinks, processing.
I smile, boss mode:
“Seeing someone burn for you while you stay untouchable?
That’s top-shelf satisfaction, babe.”
Mic drop.
Weights.
Strut haha😈😇
Final devil’s whisper:
Chaos isn’t the enemy—it’s the pulse of becoming.
Love your fate. Not because it’s pretty.
But because it’s yours.
And nothing’s sexier than owning your fire.
Sometimes I swear there’s some Omni-force up there, popcorn in hand, watching us like reality TV.
Plot twists? Commercial-free haha
SoAmor Fati is about kissing every mess life throws at you.
Just bc the chaos it’s you 😏
Me? I’m not for collars or cages. I’m not your lost cause or your next obsession.
But if I’m bored… who knows, I might slink over to play—and not with yarn. 😼
Flirting with the devil isn’t sin—it’s a cards sport 🃏
Bye now!💋
