self-study-journal

[self-study-journal]

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[self-study-journal]

Marriage turns lovers into enemies but fake marriage turns enemies into lovers.

[self-study-journal]

Marriage turns lovers into enemies but fake marriage turns enemies into lovers.

[self-study-journal]

Our culture tells us that slowing down means losing value or productivity. But to slow down is to embrace the natural flow of life. In this balance, we find peace.

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This looks like the inside of a period drama, I love it.

{27.07.2022}

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Went to a restaurant, was underdressed against my will.

{26.07.2022}

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Guess what? Life IS unfair. Might as well make it to your advantage.

[self-study-journal]

Reject the pitiful interpretation of academics. Disobey and rebel against the notion that academics are burnt out gifted children.

Fuck that. From now on, you are partaking in the identity of someone who values academic and formal education, what type they may be, whether or not private or public school, scholarship or tuition paid courses, formal or self-education,

The identity of an academic STEMS (pun intended) lies from the natural inclination towards learning everything about the world-- to the point of the consumption of yearning with love and curiosity expressed in controlled and managed softness while your heart tightens as it expands through more, chest tightening as it constantly carries a chest full of love and heavy breathign at the burden of your expansive love for academia, one of which you are excited to carry.

Being a burnt out gifted child is to admit your people pleasing tendencies, progressing you on a pathline that allows you to walk, trip, stumble, and get back up on your journey in self-love, as you discover your love for books and learning and yearning about the world and its hidden knowledge more- feeling the new skin you've just revealed and entered and embodied for yourself. One- not born in pleasing those who appraciated the existence of education as a means of their lack- but through they eyes of someone falling in love with it more the second time.

Genuinely.

[self-study-journal]

"I never knew you liked painting."

The hero presumed on her work, wiping off the wet extra of her paintbrush on her tissue.

She'd come back to her painting, nose higher as it sets the tone and height of her glasses.

The villain took a mental note on what she was painting. He never thought the hero to be one obssessed and passionate about human anatomy, going as far as being able to paint bodies without cloth nor reference, a model in front of her, but as always, she'd surprised him.

And he's the type of guy who uses what he knows.

He waited for her response. Arms crossed, he'd attempted- intended for it to be a distraction, hoping he'd be her muse, just as she is, in a time of planned heist.

He'd already been formulating a way to do so when she'd interrupted his thoughts, bringing his gaze and full attention to herself, especially her body and the way it follows her min-

"If I had actually the time to paint more," she wiped it again, tapping an inch close to the brush's hand on her thumb. She'd went back to her painting, tilting her chin up, to which the villain had always loved about her.

It was something he likes to do, especially in the battlefield.

"I would actually be able to produce more."

It was true, he remarked. Turning around in a museum under the code name of the city's hero, being surrounded by paintings herself, by the same things that he'd been too scared to touch, it took him a couple of deep breaths and chocked words to keep it all in together.

Her creations were always been marvelous, and it's time that she'd seen herself that way as well.

By seeing herself through the eyes of a lover.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving this museum," she remarked, "I would appreciate it, considered that you are making quite an attraction among the ladies." (She'd wished her paintings gathered attraction more, given that they're essentially bodies. Well, naked ones, in fact, which is different than villain's upon which are covered in cloth. That cloth, however, give away the sculpt body of his physique by being tight. Damn those black turtleneck-)

He was aware of their presence, but not as much as hers. It had a hold on him, surprisingly, as he'd been waiting for her this whole time, looking at her as his muse all those night as they'd fought on the battlefield, a body of hers embodying the soul of magnificence and ebauty, accompanied by her intelligence in all areas- intellect, intuition, art, and STEM formalities,

She's everything he'd always wanted in a woman.

She'd paused her brush, looking up at the villain, her secret love all those years of fighting, of banter in all areas of the city, hoping she'd get him in bed as well.

If only he knew, she thought.

I want her to know, he'd already devised a plan.

A plan to make her his muse and let it be known.

But it was her, the hero, who'd already been painting her thoughts on the white canvas, hoping she'd be able to see him that way.

[self-study-journal]

"I never knew you liked painting."

The hero presumed on her work, wiping off the wet extra of her paintbrush on her tissue.

She'd come back to her painting, nose higher as it sets the tone and height of her glasses.

The villain took a mental note on what she was painting. He never thought the hero to be one obssessed and passionate about human anatomy, going as far as being able to paint bodies without cloth nor reference, a model in front of her, but as always, she'd surprised him.

And he's the type of guy who uses what he knows.

He waited for her response. Arms crossed, he'd attempted- intended for it to be a distraction, hoping he'd be her muse, just as she is, in a time of planned heist.

He'd already been formulating a way to do so when she'd interrupted his thoughts, bringing his gaze and full attention to herself, especially her body and the way it follows her min-

"If I had actually the time to paint more," she wiped it again, tapping an inch close to the brush's hand on her thumb. She'd went back to her painting, tilting her chin up, to which the villain had always loved about her.

It was something he likes to do, especially in the battlefield.

"I would actually be able to produce more."

It was true, he remarked. Turning around in a museum under the code name of the city's hero, being surrounded by paintings herself, by the same things that he'd been too scared to touch, it took him a couple of deep breaths and chocked words to keep it all in together.

Her creations were always been marvelous, and it's time that she'd seen herself that way as well.

By seeing herself through the eyes of a lover.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving this museum," she remarked, "I would appreciate it, considered that you are making quite an attraction among the ladies." (She'd wished her paintings gathered attraction more, given that they're essentially bodies. Well, naked ones, in fact, which is different than villain's upon which are covered in cloth. That cloth, however, give away the sculpt body of his physique by being tight. Damn those black turtleneck-)

He was aware of their presence, but not as much as hers. It had a hold on him, surprisingly, as he'd been waiting for her this whole time, looking at her as his muse all those night as they'd fought on the battlefield, a body of hers embodying the soul of magnificence and ebauty, accompanied by her intelligence in all areas- intellect, intuition, art, and STEM formalities,

She's everything he'd always wanted in a woman.

She'd paused her brush, looking up at the villain, her secret love all those years of fighting, of banter in all areas of the city, hoping she'd get him in bed as well.

If only he knew, she thought.

I want her to know, he'd already devised a plan.

A plan to make her his muse and let it be known.

But it was her, the hero, who'd already been painting her thoughts on the white canvas, hoping she'd be able to see him that way.

[self-study-journal]

Vanity of a Vampire

"No," the vampire exclaimed, as he saw the liquidity of his hand- arm, rather, through a portal of a supposedly-non-existent world, in which one he stumbled upon entering.

How?

By touching a glass.

He'd heard of these stories of people, people of the new age, in fact, those who are obsessed with the vanity for their lack of identity which, in turn, results to them copying off another one's identic, currently surging as "trends," as a way to have a reflection.

Kkhisss, he scoffed.

As if he'd still have one.

It was one lonely night, he remembers, watching his hand wade through the portals of his mirror. If he'd have a reflection, it would've been reflecting like water, intrigued and disturbed at the vanity of the human- person, that looked through.

He'd always had one problem.

Along with the loss of the source of self-doubt and false perception, his possible tool for self-confidence in his appearance had mattered, shattered in its nothigness.

He shook his thoughts away.

What is vanity anyways?

He would've pondered more about how he knew the answer if he hadn't impulsively jumped in the mirror.

Huh.

As his foot touched the ground, everything went to black.

He'd turned around, the encaptured part of the victorian wall he'd been living in for years, centuries even in the terms of human mortality, being the only part of the house he could access- see into.

He'd been stuck in a mirror portal. An alternate dimension. Wherein he could've been trapped if he had a reflection.

If.

His eyes widened, however, as he'd found himself looking into the mirror more. There was him, seconds ago, before he'd touched the mirror.

His dark eyes, himself in the other side, had squinted his eyes, the pale of his eyebags almost distracting the vampire from being lost in them.

It was the only time he'd seen them since that night.

Hopefully it's the last time as well.

In a good way.

The vampire on the other side had already reached for the mirror- in the vampire's panic, he'd touched his fingers himself.

The vampire, on the other side however, have been confused. He didn't have a reflection, so was the story false?

The vampire had been seeing his previous self- upon realizing that time happens at the same time, past, present, future, as well as now- thinking of the story.

The story that had been passed through the whispers or the not-so-quiet ones around town. The story in which triggered himself to wonder what's on the other side, if he can't have himself.

Here he is now; realizing he'd only been able to fill that void up.

The vanity of a vampire's lack of perception.

However, the vampire on the other side had given up. Sighing, and walking away, these were the two signs of his emotional distress upon not seeing his own face.

But that's not his reality now.

In his reality, he'd seen the cautious eyebags that stand out in the midst of his pale face. He'd wondered by he'd tried covering them up in white powder, going as far to even use the dust of chalk (he remarked his skin to be blissfully marble and thus, disclosing the pores upon which these particles of the white human invention for their education in a classroom board could get in), and why it wouldn't work in the first place. It wasn't supposed to. Meant to. Willingly be the default of his tone.

The insecurity was always there for him to see that his beauty never fades away.

Grounded, in his essence, differently than the dust he'd tried to burry these dark circles under.

He'd remarked about his lips- his red bloody lips, that he recalled being astoundingly red blood. How many times have women asked for his make-up routine, goth girls and boys and wanna-be-vampires as well? (He recalled he would've gladly transfigured them into ones if he hadn't wished them to have sun-insulating skin.)

Again.

He'd touched the glass again, wonderfully looking at the slight change of reality, in his own mirror of wading perception like glass materializing itself into something- a timeline, he'd realized- that he'd no longer have dust in his walls, that he's now coming into a house that he loves- one of cleanliness.

He'd recognized it as an act of love for himself after providing a reblank of his information of a past act of not doing it as the presence of inaction due to the lack of self-appreciation.

The loss of his vanity, waiting to be rebuilt in a healthy way this time.

He'd gotten out of the mirror itself.

I'm the one who'd cleaned these walls, he'd thought to himself, admiring the new sense of identity he's in.

He'd smiled his fangs, effectively touching the sunlight in his black coat and black boots, hindered by the slight tint of a darker mosaic. If he can't go to church, might as well own their own presentation of bible stories.

He'd seen the glint of his fangs as he smiled along the mosaics, reflecting his smirk, which had proven that his smile of the moonlight had outshined the false copy and representation of human understanding in their technological development and abilities in replicating and capturing the essence of the sun.

No sooner could he realize that he'd also been afraid of it.

And neither could he realize the reflection from the mirror, creeping up behind his back.

[self-study-journal]

The objectivity of femininity is another way to take our own power. The dark power of the seductress side, the cockiness of our confidence, the sleek of our perfection, the perfectly sculpted to perfection of the image we project of ourselves in order to create a reputation and determine those who are our enemies, distinct from our friends, the softness of innocence, the purity of our senses, the intuition of a goddess,

All of these factorial subjects of the Divine Feminine is then overlooked by those of both wounded Divine Feminines and Masculines, providing more triggers that come to the surface, revealing the shadows people act out in, and act out even more.

Self-reflection and actual realization is the only way in order to build a healthy ego. Destruction of the past allows the birth of an infinite and undefined future, only to be determined by the dictation of the voice of the person and individual themselves.

[self-study-journal]

You have built castles all over my soil. You will no sooner be dug in the graves of my bones.

[self-study-journal]

Your own identity is a blanket term for all the dimensions of you that you are conscious to, that you are walking up to. Sometimes it crumbles down, due to time and age or forced growing up. Sometimes you wear others' skin. Sometimes you buried yourself too deep and you can't know yourself anymore.

But here's the tip: You are who you already want to be.

There's a reason you have an inkling towards that goal. There's a reason you want that dream.

You resonate with it. You speak its frequency. You embody its energy.

Please go towards that. You can never know the amount of happiness and excitement your body feels once you know what you can do, that invites the question,

"What else can I do?"

[self-study-journal]

Spiritual religiousness has been a blanket terminology for those who are escaping the hell they're rotting in and pain and turmoil they have been causing on others' welfare for the benefit of their own ignorance and own personal biases and ideologies.

The reason why we go through Hell is to create Heaven in the first place. It is not some one stop destination your merit through your moral points from the compass of someone else's book.

You write your own story. You are your own god you worship. Ignoring your own work on self-development and improvisation in this world wherein huamnity has been screaping themselves lower than what the actual standard of love is just joingin them in a mass parade of grave cemetery.

Spirituality is here to confront your darkness, embrace your demons and live alongside them, while determining leadership and confidence with the terms of arrogance and infuriatingly stupid triggered terms upon which you have been so lost you have separated yourself from these "sins" of the Devil himself as you call it.

You're here to work on yourself in order to know that you are love, not accept God's salvation as a form to escape your internal work. The one you've been avoiding your whole life.

Just because a weed was created doesn't mean it's there for its existence to cause your garden to rot. You dig up the bodies you have placed in your barren land for the love that you give to yourself and becasue of it, you're able to dig deep into the roots of your very being, in order to uncover the trauma that has happened to you and heal it within yourself.

You are able to create your dream life once you realize you're able to handle that. And the reason why is that you've already battled your demons and gone through Hell and back,

Now it's time to create Heaven for yourself.

[self-study-journal]

Feminine and Masculine Energies

The soul has four energies: the light masculine, dark masculine, the light feminine, and the dark feminine.

humanity at this hour of its species are then confused, negating dark with bad, and projecting a false sense of purity on the objectivtity of their perception of light.

The world in its current state of disempowerment is created and acted out on shadows- Shadows in which wounds of the soul are then projected, their lose of power, combined with a false sense of power, use theft in stealing and taken others' powers as a way to escape their own lack of their acknowledgement of the energy in themselves.

This creates multiple stories upon which a disempowered person had been dealing with injustice at the start of their light, causing them to experience the injustice this world have been operating in. In this consciousness, the disempowered person is then dealing with negative emotions-

Anger, negativity. Rage, senselessness.

Overwhelm, and anxiety. Periods of depression, and disempowerment.

Patience provides the individual an ability to be open to the current situation- Faith, alongside of this virtue, is then accompanied by the ability to wait for bette,r while accepting the current negative circumstances. This allows them to see wiht open eyes and take care of their eharts- as closed they may be,

They might be open to having it open again.

The person is then to study the situation, see what it reflected within them, understand and embrace their wound, their shadow, and then transmute it.

Through the cycle of healing, periods of doubt and "shadowwork", a spiritual term for self-healing through prompts of question such as contemplation in terms of discovering what's under the surface, subconscious, as I prefer, periods of doubt, frustration, anger, revenge, resentment, injustice, and multiple other range of low vibrational emotions, including jealousy, wrath, chaos, and sadness,

All of these energies are then being transmuted to the light.

The only way to transmute darkness to light is to embrace the darkness, and love it.

Embrace it with forgiveness, look at the version of yourself who's disempowered, one who have been taught different, wrong, and injustice.

Compassion, forgiveness through acceptance, and love through understanding, are the key components to healing and loving your shadow work.

To know you deserve better means to love the current level you are in. It is an acknowledgement to the process of your greatness-- by embracing and loving your current mediocracy.

This is the way of healing yourself, from every negative experience you have felt.

No matter the circumstance, the multiple levels of its pain, the types of bodies it had been hurt, whether physical, emotional, psychological, or spiritual, no matter the validation or the lack of it from the individual's peers, accomodating to yourself by adapting to the current circumstances is one way of loving yourself.

However, most of humanity's population have been avoiding this shadow work.

Negative emotions have been demonized in the name of the Devil, the voices of curse shouting in benign arrogance, hurt, willful ignorance and conscious confusion, have been shouting in the midst of it all.

Projecting their own insecurities, taking other people's power away to have their own, taking credit of others' identities, successes, and happiness due to the lack of their own,

these people have been ignoring the depths of the shadow they are to swim in.

Negating these energies, beating other people up for exploring them, trying to paint a picture that they are not, their willingness to ignore the shadow that they act in,

they are being willfully ignorant.

These people are ones who are jealous. Ones who wish to bring others down. Ones who lack the empathy for themselves, ones who which the downfall of others.

These people are ones who never become better, all because they refuse to admit their bad traits.

Their current circumstances dictate their lives, identities, and realities, their multiple peers of the same energy, the same attraction, furthering mirroring what they allow themselves to tolerate. Anything of light terrifies them, others' wellness reveals their unhealthy coping mechanisms,

THeir unhealthy identties, perceptions, realities, and beliefs.

THe ability to embrace your shadows is the start of you embracing your light.

Forgiveness for your paaast self is an act of love for the person you are today.

Once this had been the strat of your story, you are writing a new chapter.

To embrace fear is to overcome it.

To embrace your shadow is to be in control.

To embrace your doubts is to gain confidence in the midst of them.

To embrace dislike is to stand in the midst of it.

To acknowledge yourself is to be yourself without changing, without having to seek validation and approval from the outside world

For it all starts within you.

What you already like is who you are.

Acknowledge that.

Then the world acknowledges, the world sees.

The universe affirms it, the universe sees.

Other people won't, for they do not wish to see

But their perception is not your reality.

Their projection is not your perception.

Their fears are not your energy.

Instead, their rejection is your protection.

For who wants to be accepted by people who can't even accept and see themselves?

To demand better is to be the best, actually.

If they are angry at you for levelling up, they only wanted to keep you down.

The key?

Be higher. Do not succumb to their death threats.

Be so high that they can't touch you.

Break free.

Break free from the illusion that you're disempowered.

Affirm your new reality, your new set of beliefs, your new sense of empowerment for yourself.

For those who live high and soar free are ones who live for themselves.

Be what you wanted to be.

You already are.