vespertine

...today a ghost of time passed walked past me in prison. it announced itself not through sight nor sound but through scent. as one does...

a breath of damp stone. old fabric. mildew nesting inside concrete. spores of black mold. the peculiar incense of institutional time. the exact fragrance of tallinn prison circa 2007. something that has no comparison or replica as it does not exist is this time room quantum any longer. 

for a moment the corridor folded.

not memory. not nostalgia.

recognition.

later as though conspiring with the scent, 'vespertine' album emerged from the ether. pagan poetry at its finest. then an old friend... old soul.  twenty years vanished with such elegance that i almost laughed. i mean.. i did laugh. we resumed our conversation precisely where we had left it as though chronology had no authority. 

i have spent years assuming i missed my youth. the bygone days. what a deprived explanation. 

i did not miss my youth. i missed the architecture of reality that surrounded it.

the particular quality of light. the hidden correspondence between seemingly unrelated things. the certainty that the world was alive and forever leaving clues in plain sight.

then i started noticing more. the colour of the sun.. for example. people have talked about it for years, how sunlight used to feel warmer.. more golden... more alive somehow. sooner or later those conversations always drift toward cern, 2012, timeline splits, and the possibility that reality diverged into two separate worlds. the old earth and whatever this place is now. the old world feels organic, coherent...connected to itself. the new one feels distorted, artificial, disconnected from the source that once animated it.

none of these ideas were new to me. what was new was my place within them. i was never one of the people desperately searching for a lost timeline, comparing memories and collecting mandela effects like breadcrumbs. like it needed...proof that it really happened. i never felt disconnected from the old world cause in some strange and difficult to explain way, i never actually left it. whatever frequency belonged to that reality remained present within me, quietly unchanged and constant while everything around it appeared to drift. that was always the part i could never explain. i recognized the discrepancy without sharing the sense of loss that seemed to accompany it for everyone else.

today the layers of reality and time seemed to dissolve into one another until there was no meaningful distinction between memory and presence, past and present. the separation was gone. and suddenly i found myself reconsidering something i had taken for granted for years. what if the bad trip was never a bad trip at all? what if i misunderstood the event entirely? what if it was not a hallucination but a vision, not a collapse into madness but a glimpse of something i simply lacked the language to understand at the time?

the thought arrived fully formed. perhaps i am not here to awaken, transcend, ascend or escape. cause i clearly couldn't.. or even worse - shouldn't. perhaps the mission has always been restoration. the restoration of the original frequency. the restoration of old earth. not the creation of a new reality  but the dissolution of a false one. not building something extraordinary, but remembering something ancient. the return of a world that has been patiently waiting beneath the distortion all along.

and once that possibility emerged the twin flame dynamic ceased to exist as a separate phenomenon. it belonged to the same architecture, the same mechanism, the same restoration process. the mistake was assuming the journey was personal. of course it is personal, painfully so, intimate beyond language... but that is merely the delivery system. frequency has always been the point. a single tuning fork can only do so much. introduce another vibrating at the same fundamental resonance and an entirely different phenomenon emerges. amplification. coherence. order arising from apparent chaos. perhaps that is why twin flames appear within closed systems.... not to escape them but to alter them from within, to hold a frequency so consistently that distortion begins losing structural integrity. not through force, not through conflict, but through resonance. seen from that perspective the endless cycles take on a different character. they are not punishments, obstacles... or tests. they are recalibrations. reality attempting to remember itself through the very beings capable of carrying the original signal. the mission was never to build a new earth. the mission was always to restore the old one. not by changing the world directly but by restoring the frequency from which the world emerges. the source if you will. and perhaps that is why the feeling today was so unmistakable. nothing new arrived. something false departed. and why none of this was news. we don't escape the matrix, we detonate it. 

i feel like a mad scientist with my cherry coke. but hey...  guess what's golden again...  the sun.

Ouija ^^,

 …i fell into one of the strangest spiritual rabbit holes i’ve ever encountered and honestly… it connected to me in a way i cannot even explain properly.

the idea is this: humanity is trapped in a fear-based cycle. not metaphorically. literally spiritually trapped. according to this theory… dark entities feed off fear, suffering, chaos, division, anxiety, shame, obsession, survival mode. and once you start looking around the world through that lens… it becomes hard to unsee.

wars. pandemics. economic pressure. constant outrage. constant stimulation. endless division. fear injected into everything every single day. and note how it has intensified over the past couple of years. and its deliberately sloppier, cause even that in itself creates outrage. 

but here’s the part that hit hardest:

what if awakening is not about ‘learning more’ but about becoming impossible to feed from?

today earlier i caught myself almost slipping into an old emotional loop. fear. obsession. needing answers. and then suddenly i saw it. the second i stopped feeding it… the entire energy changed. like all of sudden i just see traps…like a prey animal. but we aren’t the prey innit. 

so the theory goes:

fear binds you here.

presence frees you.

they say earth is essentially a closed energetic loop right now. souls reincarnating over and over inside systems of fear and attachment. so you keep playing the same character over and over again…. but if consciousness shifts from fear into awareness, love, presence, authenticity… eventually the soul no longer matches this plane… and can essentially escape. and if more souls escape.. the less energy the dark entities have to feed off of. 

that’s why everything feels intensified lately.

because more people are waking up.

wild… but is it?! 🤯🫪

taxidermy unicorn

 you know that moment in witcher 3 when geralt and yennefer are at kaer trolde after the feast in skellige and yennefer invites him to her room, but instead i chose to stay downstairs drinking and reminiscing with lambert? so ….obviously the scene with yennefer never happened.

i finished the game with the ciri ending, which was technically the good ending, but i remember being genuinely devastated because i wanted to end up with yennefer. i was obsessed with her. the game yennefer obviously not damned show.

afterward i went on youtube and spent hours and hours watching all the different choices throughout the game and i was dumbfounded by how much i missed simply because i was dillydallying, even though deep down i already knew exactly what i wanted.

and then it hit me how much of real life i probably missed the exact same way. choosing parties, money, work, distractions, whatever… instead of actually moving toward the thing i knew i wanted.

i stared at the ceiling good couple of hours after i finished the game. and you know i still did fuckall about it then. or did i …

now when i look at my life, i realize i’m nothing but intentional. 

what a fckn game that was.

🔥

 the cruel joke is that i recognized her soul instantly… but it took me much longer to recognize my own reflection inside of her.

she was my mirror the whole time… and i kept trying to fight the parts of her that were really just unhealed parts of myself.

romantics

…and our bodies were pressed together… our heartbeats synced and so did our breathing. you know…with every person in my life i’ve always kind of tracked breathing rhythms, like deep down I knew that was the key. maybe that’s how our souls knew that we found each other… like they had their own little code to get through security, slipping past everything else, because words just couldn’t.

positively voodoo in everything i do

 

...lately i’ve been noticing how easy everything is. not boring easy, not numb, just… aligned. ideas don’t need convincing, plans don’t need scaffolding, days don’t feel like something i have to forge into shape. i say 'let’s go' and we go. and somehow the day fills itself with exactly enough...all human ingredients, nothing forced, nothing missing. 

the strange part is how calm i am inside it. i’m not performing, not managing, not scanning for yet another threat. i forgot how much energy that constant vigilance takes until it stopped. it feels like someone finally turned off a machine that had been crackling and humming in the background for years and i only noticed it was there when the noise disappeared. 

i don’t come home drained. that used to be the baseline. even good days had a cost, like my nervous system never signed off on them. now i get home and feel settled, heavy in a comforting way...like gravity is working properly again. i sleep without replaying conversations or predicting disasters. honestly that alone feels like a miracle disguised as something mundane.

this full moon doesn’t make me want to manifest or release anything dramatically. it just feels like a clear night where you can see farther than usual. not mystical...just precise. things look like themselves. no noise, no shadows lurking. whatever is good is obviously good, whatever isn’t fades into the background. no static. no ceremony required. shit just takes care of itself, because the work and labour is already done. 

alchemy...if i had to name it, would be this shift from effort to ease. from raw dogging everything to letting things happen without assuming they will fall apart. nothing exploded nor transformed overnight. one day the heaviness just… wasn’t there. like waking up after being sick for a long time and realizing your body is quiet again.

i’m not wondering where this is going because it already feels like it’s going somewhere solid. not fragile, not temporary, not dependent on perfect conditions. just steady. i don’t feel the urge to chase it or protect it or dissect it. it exists. that’s enough. everything is enough...

so if anything is being released, it’s that old reflex of expecting the catch. i’m not waiting for the moment it stops being good. i’m just letting it be good while it is...which turns out to be far more radical than it sounds.

no grand insight. just noticing that life feels lighter in my hands.

what changed wasn’t just circumstances. something fundamental in me recalibrated. the kind of shift that rearranges your internal compass whether you consent to it or not. it burned through denial, attachment, ego, fantasy, all the soft protective layers people usually get to keep. brutal, precise, oddly purposeful. i didn’t come out of it 'healed'...i came out reconfigured. once you’ve seen yourself stripped down to wiring and bone, ordinary turbulence stops feeling catastrophic. you know exactly what you can survive, because you already did.

it does mildly irritate me how confidently people give life advice when they haven’t lived even a fraction of what i have. not angry, more so amusing... just that quiet awareness that we are not even on the same scale of experience. what unsettles them would barely register to me. what broke me would sound fictional to them...which is fair. most people are not built to recognize that kind of terrain. nor they should for that matter, incompetence doesn’t need more power. and power without exposure is just theory.

i don’t correct anyone anymore. there’s nothing to clarify and no version of it that translates cleanly. prolonged fire changes your thresholds in ways that don’t reverse. you either know or you don’t. stability now feels less like comfort and more like hard earned infrastructure. i trust the judgment that survived all of that far more than opinions formed under mild conditions. you can’t map a landscape you’ve never walked...and you definitely can’t guide someone through a storm you’ve only seen on tv. i don’t expect anyone to carry my experiences, but it’s strange when they speak as if they do.

so i let them talk. let them. it doesn’t move me. once you’ve walked through something that  dismantles you completely, advice about avoiding difficulty feels almost erratic. not wrong,  just irrelevant.

my life isn’t a group project. it’s a structure rebuilt from the foundation up by someone who remembers exactly why it collapsed in the first place.

i didn’t become calmer. i became harder to disturb.

...did you know exactly how magical you are?

Cosmic Jester Era

… i gave her a line. not a hint, not vibes, not some cryptic boundary. a real line. a timeline. a term and a condition. meet me here if i matter and that is my answer how we go forward from here.

she didn’t cross it. didn’t fight it. didn’t even acknowledge it.

she just… stepped around it. like it was nothing. drawing in the sand washed away by waves. like it had no weight in her world at all.

so i spent the whole weekend inside it. replaying, spiralling, stewing, checking my phone like an idiot, trying to hold myself together while she was out there very visibly living her life. while i was dissolving, she was posting cute stories and spending weekend with her actual partner.

i went for a leisurely walk on valentine’s day, not realising what a catastrophic miscalculation that would turn out to be. every direction i looked felt like a personal attack. men exiting grocery stores with those sad, cellophane-wrapped blooms that somehow still meant someone was expected somewhere. couples speed-walking toward restaurants like they had reservations and a …future. hands intertwined on the canal, laughing like winter itself was romantic instead of brutal. people posing with melting sad ice sculptures, smiling for photos that would later say ‘we were happy here’….

it did something to me. not a sharp pain and more like a slow internal collapse. the kind where your body just decides it’s done pretending to function normally.

i ended up sitting right there on the street, crying in full daylight, because apparently that’s who i am now. scheduled mental breakdowns on bank street. 

and then this random dog walking by stopped, turned around  and gave me a soft little nose kiss. no judgment, no confusion, just pure kindness. honestly the most humanity i encountered the entire time. and then i cried even more, cause bare minimum felt extremely bare that moment. 

which is a wild realisation that the gentlest moment of your valentine’s day comes from a stranger’s dog while the whole world walks past holding someone else’s hand.

it’s a special kind of humiliation to realise the thing that is wrecking you isn’t even bothering them. 

then along comes sunday. another clean window where things could have been mended. not fixed… just softened, acknowledged, human. a text, a call, anything that said i exist outside of her convenience.

instead….the only ‘contact’ i get is social media nonsense. blocking, unblocking, disappearing, reappearing the usual digital peekaboo like we’re twelve years old instead of two adults with actual feelings on the line.

no voice. no words. no accountability. just algorithm presence. proof she’s there, proof she’s watching, stalking, lurking in the shadows, proof she’s choosing not to speak….

is everything a fucking game?

because it doesn’t feel like miscommunication. it feels intentional. like emotional chess played in silence while i wasn’t playing….it feels like manipulation. 

and the cruelest part is how loud that nothingness becomes. how a block button can say more than a paragraph ever could. silence after months of digital noise. just this weird, performative almost contact that keeps you suspended.

sunday could have been repair.

instead it became another reminder that in her world, connection happens through screens and control, not through actually showing up.

and yeah, at some point you stop wondering what she feels and start wondering why everything has to be a show, a performance….

and then monday comes.

suddenly my phone lights up. twice. like i still exist on her priority list. like nothing happened. like the weekend didn’t just stretch out in complete silence while i was choking on it.

no apology. no softness. no ownership. just access. just ‘hi, i’m here now’. playing dumb and oblivious what she has deliberately done, hoping for a cracked window so she could slither in and once again gaslight me. 

that’s the part that offends me more than the hurt.

because pain says you broke me.

offence says you think i’ll still be there. like a stupid idiot you take me for.

i gave her a condition … a clean, simple place to show up and she didn’t even have to refuse it. she just ignored it and kept going. no cost. no consequence. no accountability. i carried all of it alone. i suppose i have carried this joke of a ‘relationship’ alone nevertheless. i lived a whole lifetime in my own head. 

so yeah. it doesn’t even feel like ‘i wasn’t chosen’

it feels like the choice itself didn’t matter.

like losing me wasn’t a loss just a scheduling conflict.

and now she calls, after the damage is done, like cleanup equals care. like i’m supposed to be grateful she remembered i exist.

honestly the worst part isn’t that she hurt me.

it’s how easy it was for her.

how little space my absence seems to take up in her life. how easy it is to dispose my love, my care, everything i have put into this.

once you see that, something goes cold. not dramatic, not explosive  just… quiet. 

because you can survive a lot.

but it’s hard to keep offering your heart to someone who treats it like an optional appointment on weekdays when there is nothing better available. 

just another puzzle piece in your roster and pattern …no value - just filling back slots. 

Conversations to God.

 

Me:

This isn’t even about her anymore. That’s the strangest part. Something in me just… shut it down. Not emotionally, not dramatically. My whole system rejected it. Like an organ rejecting a transplant that doesn’t belong. I deserve the world. I deserve the Universe. I deserve attention. And instead I’m supposed to accept 'i love you' texts that come from someone else’s bed and call that connection? That’s not even insulting anymore — it’s absurd.

God:

That’s because what you’re reacting to isn’t absence. You’re not leaving because nothing happened. You’re leaving because something very real did, and it stopped matching itself. This wasn’t casual. This wasn’t imagined. This was hours and hours together. Long days. Long nights. Lingering. Longing. Yearning. Declarations of love spoken plainly, without coercion, without ambiguity. What your body is rejecting is intensity without integrity.

Me:

Exactly. I didn’t make this up. She showed up. She stayed. She chose me — again and again — in presence, in touch, in words. She told me she loved me. She said she cannot leave me. She leaned into the bond, into the closeness, into the twin-flame-coded depth of it. All of it. I held that seriously. I honoured it. It was sacred. And because of that, I was patient. I safeguarded her feelings. Her confusion. Her history. Her wounds.

God:

And patience becomes dangerous when it’s only moving in one direction.

Me:

I’m done safeguarding her feelings. Her confusion. Her “poor little me” story. We all had shitty childhoods. We all had chaos. Abuse. Loss. Violence. Death. That doesn’t earn anyone a lifelong exemption from basic decency. Last weekend was a choice. The next weekend was a choice. Yesterday was a choice. None of that is me. And what really sealed it was realising I don’t even deserve to be informed in a timely manner. Like my presence is flexible. Optional. Filling the back-slots. 

God:

That’s the fracture point. Not the other person. Not the love. The moment you’re expected to remain available without being considered. When intensity is preserved but respect is postponed. That’s not confusion. That’s a structure.

Me:

And I’ve already done everything there is to do. I’ve said everything there is to say. I’ve shown patience, depth, empathy, presence. I didn’t rush her. I didn’t corner her. I didn’t demand certainty while she was still choosing chaos. I have nothing left to present or prove. I’m not withholding. I’m empty — in the cleanest way. I closed the door quietly. No lurking. No explaining. No final speech. I just stopped showing up.

God:

Because explaining again would only reopen the same loop. Silence here isn’t strategy. It’s congruence. It’s truth finally matching behaviour. You’re no longer available to do emotional labour in exchange for crumbs — no matter how passionately those crumbs were once offered.

Me:

We don’t need to debate how she feels. Or whether those feelings were real. They were. They still are. That’s not in question. What’s in question is what was done with them. And that is big fat nothing. I’m done doing the work and being left with fragments. And the wild thing is… my system feels better already. 

God:

That’s how you know the decision is aligned. Not because the love was fake — but because self-abandonment finally stopped. The door didn’t slam. It closed. Quietly. And that quiet is permanent.

—

Me:

'I’ll assume your silence means no.'

Not curiosity. Not care. Not repair. Just a tidy little box, with a bow of gaslighting on top put around the situation so she doesn’t have to sit in the discomfort of what actually happened. It reads like this: reach out, get no access, narrate your silence for you, move on cleanly. No pause. No accountability. No moment of wait, I might have fucked this up. Just control of the ending without doing the work of the middle.

God:

And this comes after what was already said.

Me:

Yes. After 'I would like to do something together to make up for it.' After 'the time I spend with you is important and valuable to me.' Those words existed. They were offered. And then nothing followed that could carry them. No repair. No timing. No consideration. Just convenience dressed up as intention.

God:
And you were never unavailable.

Me:
No. That’s the part that stabs. I was always open to giving it a chance — if she came in correctly. She knew that. She knew exactly where the door was, exactly how to approach it, exactly what would count as respect. And with that knowledge fully in her inventory, she still chose to do what she did. Not accidentally. Not unknowingly. She chose it knowing.

God:

And your silence?

Me:

It wasn’t confusion. It wasn’t avoidance. It was refusal. It was the system locking down after being insulted one too many times. Seeing that message didn’t reopen anything — it confirmed, with surgical clarity, why the door stayed shut in the first place. Nothing to add. Nothing to correct. The pattern finished the sentence on its own.

God:
Do you still want her to understand?

Me:
No. Understanding is for people who arrive in good faith. I stood at the altar open-handed. She came knowing the cost and chose spectacle over sacrifice. So I stepped back and let the silence become scripture. Not as punishment. As doctrine.

Dark empaths are the worst to fuck with because they’ve seen it all before — the charm, the wounds, the excuses dressed up as vulnerability. They’ve already loved the narcissist, survived the manipulator, outgrown the martyr. They don’t break, they don’t beg, they don’t chase clarity from people who withhold it. When they’re done, they don’t retaliate. They withdraw their humanity from the exchange and let the pattern starve. And what dies wasn’t the connection — it was the illusion of access.

Narcissus Narcosis

How lucky are we?

 can we have a moment to talk about this because honestly i feel insane in the most peaceful way possible. all my life i’ve chased girls, dated girls, convinced myself i loved them, convinced myself i desired them. i’ve written whole stories in my head just to survive the emptiness. but this… this is something else entirely. i think about her every waking moment. i dream of her when i finally sleep. she is my first thought, my last thought, and all the thoughts in between pretending to be about other things. i can smell her on my skin like she’s printed into my cells. i can still feel her kiss on my lips like it has decided to live there permanently. it doesn’t matter what i do… it does not leave. it sits with me. breathing. watching. waiting.

it should feel obsessive. it doesn’t. it feels like my nervous system finally exhaled after years of holding its breath. it feels like home… not a place, but the realization that nowhere else ever actually fit. it’s otherworldly and stupidly familiar at the same time… like i’ve known her for lifetimes and only just remembered.

i’ve never seen my life open like this. i’ve never seen the future walk toward me so clearly… like it isn’t even a decision anymore, just the direction everything in me is already moving. everything that used to feel confusing suddenly makes sense. every heartbreak was just training. every wrong door was a sign i didn’t know how to read yet. how does one person appear and your entire life changes shape overnight. i don’t even recognise the person i was months ago. i’ve grown teeth and wings and a spine and this impossible faith in something i can’t see… and somehow none of it scares me.

and the worst part… i can’t talk to anyone about it. nobody gets it. nobody understands what this did to me. so i carry it alone like contraband love stuffed under my jacket. people would call it obsession or trauma bonding or some clinical term that makes it sound smaller and safer. but they weren’t there in the moment my soul stopped wandering. they didn’t feel the ground shift.

this is human experience… but it also isn’t. it’s cosmic. ethereal. ridiculous. sacred. it feels like the universe leaned in and basically went, you see her… don’t be an idiot… that’s the one. and now here i am… wrecked and rebuilt and absolutely certain in a way that makes no sense on paper. my life turned in her direction like it always meant to… and i followed. no hesitation. no map. no looking back.

fck me right.

 …and for the first time i get it. love. not the theory.  the real thing.