theitstemgirliee

[theitstemgirliee]

Truth about bitterness.

Maybe hate’s keeping them warm. And maybe that’s not poetic but it’s real.

Don't be this person , no one likes this person including them.

[theitstemgirliee]

I don't care.

I have decided to simply not care. I don't care about the subtle signs , I don't care about the evidence and I definitely don't care about what's happening right now. I am not the mistakes, my family made. I am not going to walk in their footsteps. I am going to uproot those subtle signs and throw them away before I let them tarnish this beautiful life of mine. I am going to hold them by the neck and twist their life out before I let them touch my life. I don't care if you think , I can't succeed , I don't fucking care if history is not in my favour , I am going to do it , anyways. You know , why? Because this is my one life. The only life I get and I have dreams , dreams I can't simply bury and move on. You think I am delusional ? I don't think so because I am building that vision with my blood , sweat and hard work. You know how a sugarcane shoots up in the sky ? It builds a network of roots underground for 6 weeks before shooting up in the sky. To onlookers , it might seem like the sugar cane grew overnight but the farmer knows about the time it took to build something so good. All this latent heat will one day be converted to specific and then fools will lament that the success was overnight but the legends will know that it wasn't. I am writing this to let my haters know , keep hating. Your hate does not reach me. It never will. You know who stands beside me? God. The creator of this universe stands beside me and you can't even touch my hair. All what you can do is use that big mouth of yours and well frankly , I really , could not care less.

With love ,

theitstemgirl.

[theitstemgirliee]

BEAST MODE.

I’m honestly a beast right now. No kidding. In just two days, I’ve devoured 77 pages and nailed 10 tests like it’s nothing. I’m obsessed like a nicotine addict chasing the next fix and yeah, maybe it’s not the healthiest, but wow, I can’t stop.

Even in my sleep, I’m solving subject questions. It’s like this unstoppable flow.

My brain? Limitless. My drive? Unmatched. I’m fully embracing this insane power, and honestly, I love being this BEAST.

[theitstemgirliee]

"I am not what they think of me." That’s the truth. You never were. You’re not their small-minded judgment, not their projection, not their shallow expectations. You are more and you’re remembering that now.

"I am a force to be reckoned with." You’ve been hurt, doubted, dismissed. And yet, you’re still here. That’s not weakness , that’s power. Quiet, steady, real power. Let it grow.

"I am going to make a beautiful life for myself." Not a perfect life. Not a life to show off. But a beautiful one full of your kind of peace, purpose, joy, and love. That’s a life worth fighting for.

"It will be so full of love that their words won’t sting anymore." And one day, they won’t. Not because they stop speaking but because their words won’t reach you. You’ll have risen too high. Built too much. Grown too strong.

"I am going to do it because I can." This is everything. Not for revenge. Not for validation. But because you were made for more. And now finally you believe it, even just a little.

[theitstemgirliee]

Protect your peace like it’s sacred scripture. Treat your intuition like it's gospel. Love yourself like it’s a non-negotiable ritual. Walk like the universe follows your lead. Speak your truth like it’s prophecy.

[theitstemgirliee]

Being HER.

She’s a bit of a contradiction, really. She’ll stay loyal for years, yet know how to walk away without looking back. She pours her heart into things and still somehow keeps a part of herself untouched. She loves people deeply, but also vanishes for days just to feel like herself again. She’s warm in a room full of strangers, but her truest self comes out in silence. Soft-spoken, but not someone you can walk over. Dreamy-eyed, yet startlingly grounded. She’s full of feeling, but not everyone gets to see it. You could say she’s a little too much and not enough, all at once. But that’s just her way.

[theitstemgirliee]

Cmon girl , this is your dream. It's a once in a while story for you , go get it.

[theitstemgirliee]

[theitstemgirliee]

Every time you let a man's idea of the world tell you how to exist, every time you wonder if he'd find this outfit hot, if your voice is soft enough, or if you're too much to be loved, you lose a piece of yourself quietly, silently, like a thread slipping from your own fabric, and one day you’ll wake up not recognizing the girl in the mirror who was once so full of lightning.

Listen, being attractive just to be looked at isn’t a win; it’s a slow death. Being beautiful just to survive the male gaze is like watering a plastic plant and calling it growth. You're not alive just to be pretty for someone else's story. The male gaze is not love. It’s a hunting lens, and you are not prey.

What scares me is that so many girls have gotten used to reading stories where love looks like violence in slow motion, where being called names in bed is supposed to make you feel wanted, where humiliation is dressed up as romance, and where nobody talks about how much it chips away at your soul. Like we’re supposed to be okay with being treated like playthings in fiction and in life and then pretend we don’t carry that into our reflection.

Girl, what they’re selling you is not sexy. It’s social conditioning in a lace bra. It’s patriarchy with soft lighting. And you’re buying it. Stop. Just stop.

These books, this content, this noise—it’s not harmless. It’s programming. It’s making you duller, sweeter, quieter, and emptier. a real-life dummy who knows how to blush but not how to roar. You should be learning how to break cycles, how to build wealth, how to raise hell, how to speak to God, and how not to flinch at your own fire.

Stop thinking about your pimple. Stop standing in front of mirrors wondering if you’re enough. Start asking who profits when you hate your own face. Start noticing how industries are built on your self-doubt. and how you’re paying with your power.

The truth is a lot of men are not safe. Not emotionally. Not spiritually. not in how they love. You think they’re the answer, but they’ve been raised to be the question. They’ve been raised to believe that if they can’t be powerful, they’ll settle for being in control of you. And maybe one day someone will come who changes that narrative, who treats you like a universe, not a maid, and if he does, good. Love him well. love his people. Let him love yours.

But if he lies, if he folds after marriage like a cheap paper promise, if he starts to chip away at the woman you fought to become, don’t stay and suffer and call it strength. Leave. Or if you can’t leave yet, learn to play the long game. Use what you must to rise. detach. plan. And when the moment comes, go.

Do not have his child thinking it will anchor him. Do not pour into him hoping he’ll fill you. That’s not how wells work. You are not here to carry the dead weight of someone else’s arrested development. Let his parents deal with what they raised.

Be the one who plans family vacations no one ever thought they’d take. Be the one who earns the income, pays the bills, and makes the memories. Be the one your younger self would sob to meet. the one who didn’t give up. the one who said, “No, I don’t want your script. I’ll write my own.”

Trust God. fiercely. Trust your gut. quietly. Trust people slowly or don't.

And for the love of everything sacred, stop living your life like you're a supporting character in a story that was never written for you. Take the pen. Burn the script. Write in the margins. Scream in italics.

And to the girls who think they are ruined, impure, and unworthy of anything sacred because of what they’ve done, listen to me: God does not think like that. He is not sitting on some high throne, keeping score of your failures. He is not disgusted by your mistakes. He is not ashamed of your survival. He knows—he knows you were trying to make it through a world that never handed you safety. He saw the moments you were crying while pretending to be fine, the nights you felt like nothing, and the times you gave your body because you just wanted to feel wanted, even for a second. And He still—still—calls you His. The Qur’an says, “My mercy encompasses all things” (7:156). The Bible says, “Though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18). The Gita says, “Even if the most sinful worships Me with undivided devotion, he is to be considered righteous, for he has made the right resolve” (9.30). Sikhism teaches, “God Himself saves the fallen ones” (SGGS, Ang 918). Every path, every prophet, every scripture—they say the same thing: come back. Come back to God; fall into His mercy like a child who’s tired of pretending. Bow your head and say, “I won’t go back there again. I know better now.” And He will lift your chin with such tenderness that you'll wonder why you ever thought He turned away. You are not too far gone. You are not stained. You are not too late. Your story is still holy. Your heart is still worthy. And your return, that quiet, trembling return, might just be the most sacred thing you ever do.

You don’t owe the world your softness when it offers you only edges. Cry, yes. Repent, if you must. Cleanse yourself of the past, but don’t get stuck in shame. Use it. Build from it. become impossible to look at . Become you.

[theitstemgirliee]

Stop asking people for opinions , they are just going to misguide you. You are a power unstoppable , don't let others get to you.

[theitstemgirliee]

Introduction.

Hey everyone, my name is Rose.

This blog is for me- but it’s also for you. For the girl who once questioned her worth. For the girl who mistook her softness for weakness. For the girl who thought she had to earn her place in the world.

You don’t.

You are the place.

You are the sunlit garden and the temple steps. The top rank and the rosewater glow. The quiet reader and the storm of ambition. You were always meant to be all of it. And more.

There was a time I tried to shrink myself to fit the version others could understand. Too intense. Too pretty. Too curious. Too emotional. Too much. But one morning, I woke up different. Not louder, not tougher. Just… truer.

Truer to the girl I was before the world told me to break myself into parts.

Now I study with devotion not to prove, but to become. Now I dress for the poetry in my own bones, not the gaze of the room. Now I speak softly but carry clarity like a sword. Now I don’t chase peace. I choose it.

This isn’t about beauty and brains as a balancing act. This is about alignment. When your mind is clear, your face glows. When your intentions are pure, your eyes shine. When your heart is anchored, your future bends.

Every word I write here is a petal in a larger unfolding. A ritual. A reward. A remembrance.

As the poet Suzanne Buffam said: “To cross an ocean, you must love the ocean before you love the far shore.” This blog is me loving the ocean. This daily life of mine. The silence. The stillness. The sacred effort.

I am going to make everything around me beautiful— Not because it’s easy, but because it’s who I am. This is what it means to live in devotion to your own becoming.

Not just a pretty girl. Not just a smart girl. Not just a dream girl.

But a whole woman in the making. A temple of grace and power. A fire with the scent of rose petals.

So welcome. Stay, if you’re becoming too. There’s space here for all of you.

With love, Rose 🥀