19/08/2026
know thyself = meet thy monsters
i didnβt need to repent.
i needed to reparent
the parts of me
that had been abandoned
mid-tantrum.
maybe heaven is just the part of hell
youβve decided to hold.
you wanna be holy?
try sitting with your hurt
long enough
to hear its origin story.
what if the devil youβve been at war with is just
your inner child
wearing all the armor
you were too young to carry?
what if you stopped
trying to cast your demons out
and started rocking them to sleep?
what if the bravest spiritual practice
isnβt light or love or transcendence?
what if itβs dragging a chair
across the floor of hades,
sitting down beside the part of you
you were taught to hate,
and saying,
βiβm not leaving.β
what if you didnβt come here to be fixed?
what if you came here to fall in love
with every version of you
that survived
a crucifix?
some of you wonβt understand this.
some days i believe in jesus.
some days i am jesus,
but not the
whitewashed sunday school one.
the brown-skinned revolutionary one
who broke generational curses like bread
and cried in gardens
because he still loved the ones
who hurt him.
stop looking for god
in places youβve never bled.
the divine doesnβt live
in your perfection.
they live in your p***y.
in your panic attacks.
in your di****ad opinions.
in your p**n search history.
in the silence
after you almost called your ex.
god isnβt hiding from you.
theyβre hiding as you.
this might sound crazy,
but the part of me that wanted to f**k everyone
was the same part that just wanted
to be held as a child.
i asked my shadows
what they believed in.
they said: "you.
the version of you
that kept going when
you couldn't see the light."
when no one chose me,
my darkness did.
it stayed awake
so i could make it to morning.
when people ask me who i am,
i want to hand them a guest list:
rage, joy, addiction, devotion,
kink, wonder, regret,
and rebirth.
what if your self isnβt
something you lose or find?
what if itβs something you host?
a dinner party of misfits.
a family reunion
for every version of you
that never got to come home.
set the table. pour the wine.
and for godβs sake, donβt
make the addict sit
in the corner
again.
when i let the addict speak,
he didnβt ask for sobriety
or preach about some
12-step program.
he asked for a seat,
and saidβ¦
stop calling me broken.
iβm the one who stayed alive
when everyone else left.
my emotions
are more mythology than mood;
written in the language of my
limbic system.
some people
call them archetypes.
others call it internal family systems.
you can label them angels, demons,
daimons, parts, or prayers.
i really donβt care.
i just know, my lover didnβt feel safe
until my warrior put his sword down at home.
my warrior didnβt know what to fight for
until the king gave him a vision
worth bleeding for.
my king
didnβt rule with wisdom
until the magician showed him
how to surrender to mystery,
and the magician
was waiting for the fool
to dance barefoot in the kitchen
and say: βmaybe the real kingdom
is this pot of soup we made
out of everything you
once hated.β
i was told kings sat on thrones.
but mine sits cross-legged in the dirt
with my inner child,
drawing sigils in the mud
with a stick and a story
about how every heartbreak
was a map back to myself.
wanna know how i became who i am today?
i stopped trying to fix myself.
and started french kissing
every f**ked-up fragment
that thought it had to hide.
people call me grounded,
but really i just learned
how to make love
with every part of me
i was told to bury.
so donβt ask me who i am.
ask me who iβve made room for.
the stories that shaped me
could never fit inside
this tiny glowing rectangle.
so i built them a secret garden
out of scars and love letters,
confessions and obsessions,
sticky fingers and dangerous questions,
poems that laugh when you tell them
to sit still.
and for the first time,
you can hold them in your hands.
my book is officially available for preorder.
claim yours now and iβll send you
the complete audio version,
read by me,
for free.
follow the link in the comments
if you're ready to
make room for all of you.
