Moving on & the high value heroine archetype

 14/1/25 

Musings on moving on

healing from relationships the healthy way: part 1 

It's important to acknowledge that relationships can sometimes change when one partner is experiencing personal growth and transformation. This journey of self-discovery may have begun before the relationship started and could be hindered by settling into the dynamics with the other person

i know this sounds condescending. But my last relationship ate away 8 years of my life because I gave a “nice” guy a chance. We were great friends, companions, but our sexual compatibility & chemistry was nil.

 I was the one wearing the pants. I was already on my journey of self-development when I met him. My interest in psychology, self-improvement, and personal growth had been sparked during my mental health and trauma recovery, which peaked in late 2015 when I went on a date with him.

He had been pursuing me for years. 

My first red flag should of  our initial meeting back in 2011. It was platonic, but he visited me while I was very mentally unstable, as an inpatient in an old Catholic psychiatric hospital. This was during a time when my ex-boyfriend, who I had been with since I was 19, was cheating on me. I always remember that we talked for 10 hours. He brought me a gift of my favorite conspiracy magazines, along with a notebook and a fancy pen. At that time, my ex, Alexander, had fallen out of the honeymoon stage and was ignoring me, so I greatly overvalued his gesture due to my idealized perspective.

We texted back and forth, but nothing was consistent. He eventually vanished, ending up with a much older woman who had two children of her own; a a single mother who used him and controlled his phone usage. He disappeared into regional NSW. 

I didn’t find out until much later that this situation contributed to his debt of $50,000 to $70,000, which I helped him get out of (a second red flag).

This was a compromised secret I hid for him because I enjoyed his company initially.

now it emphasizes the importance of my journey toward becoming a high-value woman. 

As we plateaued apart I learnt how to “be single” while he had a whole other relationship in my face.  

The high value woman doesn’t jump into a new relationship without having healed from the wounds of her prior relationship, she doesn’t jump from man to man meaninglessly, she dates with INTENTION. She lives with INTENTION. Everything she does in INTENTIONAL. 

Her femininity is bold, intentional & vibrant. My last relationship had sapped me of traditional gender roles but the one prior to that was a year and a half of a very dominant, traditional masculine man. Who was honest when “he couldn’t be the man he needed me to be” and that was a trait I was so drawn to when we broke up. I then levelled all future breakups to be at that same “level”. I said that to J in the  beginning. He had so many “DOORS OUT”.

That was why his cowardice, passivity & dishonesty annoyed me the most because the guy before was so real & honest about not being able to handle me & we ended amicably and remain friends to this day as a result of civil boundaries. So J fucked me up & wasted years of my life as he was clueless as to what he really wanted .  

so personal growth but also draws in a partner who appreciates self-improvement. I never want to find myself in a situation where I have to guide my partner on who to be or how to act, even if the experience had its moments of intrigue. 

His parents expressed an overwhelming sense of gratitude, often brought to tears, for the role I played in shaping their son into a “real man.”But the toll it had on me, is understated. It’s not a roll id ever want in my life again. It’s exhausting. Psychometric tests for hours, career quizzes. Utilising my counselling skills to test on him as a Guinea pig (yeah it worked). 

Then what did i get ? Nothing. Who do I have to blame for it? Myself. I was hoping he would eventually be man enough to give back something to help me heal.

 But he palmed me off to some 13 years older guy from overseas who neither of us had ever met and then went off with a 10 years younger girl and left me (even as a friend) in the hardest time of my life. He could of been honest and said what the ex before me said because dim woman enough to handle the truth but he wasn’t man enough to be honest.  

That’s when the realization hit me hard;he was just keeping me on the back burner, a safety net for when things didn’t go his way. I was never truly a friend; I was merely an “option.” 

When his 21-year-old girlfriend entered the picture, it was clear he saw a chance for easy control, especially since she had just come out of an abusive relationship. Like a switch flipping, he dropped me without a second thought. I had been foolish, so utterly naive, to believe I meant anything more to him than a fallback plan

.I was discarded the minute he found her. She was more of a genuine friend to me than he had been for years in that last 6-7 months, she always made time for me and listened, I m loved our conversations.

But the day after her first date with him, everything changed between J and j m. 

He suddenly grew irritable about the time I spent with her and seemed increasingly frustrated by my lack of jealousy or resentment; 

which were emotions he was obviously anticipating from me. 

He seethed silently, on the brink of passive aggressive explosive rage, whenever we shared a deep conversation without him, while he worked from home on Friday and she had her days off and visited, lively and engaged asking about the birds, which I adored. He was radiating an intensity of “she’s mine you better not talk about me” that was hard to ignore.

This experience of almost 9 years  was an absolute eye-opener for me. I’ve come to realize that I will never trust, date, or entertain the facade of the “faux nice guy” again that I encountered with my ex. I know I deserve better. 

I felt it before but I know it after. 

I will never train a man how to be “an effective communicator”. 

How can he find his purpose and understand the true will or passion, values, and principles that guide his life? 

The truth is, he already knows what they are. He knows how to communicate like a healthy adult. 

Such a partner is likely to have a solid grasp of effective communication, psychological insights, and self-awareness, making for a more enriching and balanced relationship.

I think this is a pivotal

His routine should already be established and in alignment with yours. 

You don't need to teach him how to eat healthy or exercise, as he already knows how to do that. He is spiritual, he maybe can lead to show you, not the other way

Nine years in total (8 years and 7 months) of shaping a man didn't change the base nature of his “passive” ”submissive”   & “lack of leadership.”. 

Perhaps he could teach me a thing or two by sitting me down in a dignified, polite manner that is neither arrogant nor ego

Nothing is more attractive than an intelligent, skilled man who is humble and keeps his ego in check.. but is confident in what he can do & willing to help you with showing you how to do new things. I love a man who can teach me things. 

If a man is truly skilled he has no need to beat his chest like a primate & run around like a three ringed circus, to lament “who can do it better”. It only conveys a faux arrogance & rancid narcissistic egocentricity that screams “I can’t have anyone not think I’m the best at anything and all attention better go to me or I’ll make your life hell”

The two ends of the red flag avoid spectrum, are faux nice covert narcissists and then the communal, egocentric overt narcissist. 

One is self defeating, but lacking purpose and placid while the other seems to have too much to say & talks the most, the loudest, while is the only one who is the “best, biggest, only, no other can beat” type of guy and anyone who dare cross him *insert immature threat of adolescent type rage despite his age.

Both  types talk a lot but lack action. They know what you want to hear and will tell you those things because they recognize your desire for validation. It is MY responsibility to ensure that I do not rely on these kinds of people by validating yourself and addressing your own soul and psychological wounds. Instead of seeking validation from others, focus on healing the void that you once hoped these types of men would fill for you.They will NEVER do the job you can do for yourself, and you KNOW deep down, those guys, talk shit. I think back to my ex, how much of my own behaviour was just me forging his persona into who I wanted him to be so I could have a human I needed to help me “try and escape my traumatic life”.

Selfish, self serving, maybe. But was I just doing what I was told in therapy? Yes. 

It was a recipe for codependency.

He needed explicit instructions constantly. Which was exhausting. 

Until it wasn’t. 

He was eventually, given, the ultimate, magnum opus, I helped him, find himself. I think this is one of the most selfless things I did for someone. I didn’t mean to; but intimately I loved him enough to want that for him. 

He was then off, flying and spreading his wings and I was happy for him. It’s the saddest heartbreaking moment then, when I look back in retrospect that the moment I had given him that freedom, was the moment he started to express increasing control to me. There was a period where we could say we were happy. 

Momentums of happiness.

It was never a normal relationship. Ever. But we had fun, we were always going onn adventures and having interesting experiences. 

Was he nice. Yeah at first. But I learnt these guys are silent and deadly killers over time. They don't communicate until the last moment and the truth, is specifically spoken in woven daggers crafted from years of a running inner monologue against you. When you are all about open, honest dialogue. 

All you wanted was honesty and all you brought was authenticity and maybe you were too much yourself, so much he was repulsed. That is not a you problem as you warned him     

“It was ok, its fine, I love it, I love you, I accept you, I am with you”. He whispers and whimpers weakly in a tone you barely hear, as he has got the mumbles when you first met him. 

It wasn't until you taught him to speak he learnt how to raise his voice and professionally project it like a man. “She made me the man I am” he said for years until it was “you did nothing for me and I hate you” recently “you steal and took and gave me nothing”. 

While the truth is, you have given him a gift nobody can express. 

One of the rarest. Only to have it denied and rejected and then by June last year I had never given him a thing, all the gifts he returned to me. Literally packed in boxes and given back as though he never wanted them. 

*A slap in the face* not only to deny my spiritual, emotional and psychological gifts but the physical as well? It’s like he was trying to erase my memory from his life altogether. Someone might think I was the one who had the new partner in his face. Or had done the atrocious act in front of him. I had always wracked my brain in deliberation wondering, pleading with him to tell me “what had I done that made him hate me so much?”. But he could never give me a straight answer. He kept giving me the same thing that was his own doing. That wasn’t anything but trauma flooding to a random guy from American he told me to email. I had not ever met this person. 

He found him, told me to email him and this was the betrayal, even though he wanted me so badly to do this act? I was eternally confused by this to the point it often felt like “damned if I do/damned if I don’t”. 

It wasn’t like I was given a choice; but when he had a new partner I was forced to swallow it and did so, happily. 

Thats how I learnt about “high value” women and how to become one, looks maxxxing and started that journey. 

*** 

Childhood, secrets, silence & secrets of the soul shattered: [Reintegrating soul fragments Day 1]

 Childhood, secrets, silence & secrets of the soul shattered: 

[Reintegrating soul fragments Day 1]

 

Tuesday, 14th July, 2020.

 

 

By now, I have already broken too many promises for goals, and outcomes I set myself, I think this is more of a reflection of my own interaction with the society around me, than my own lack of power to seek out these goals. I have lived a life full of turmoil, obstacles and challenges from the hidden hand, meaning I’m in a perpetual state of “waiting for the next bad thing to come”, but passionate enough to still have this slittge of hope that “maybe this pain will be worthwhile in the end”. 

I have broken so many promises to myself, but I owe it to myself now, to be honest about my life, in order to break free, I must first, release the burden of my souls’ secrets. 

I am in a pioneering phase of integrating childhood dissociation, and I have experimental approaches to “do anything to make it out, at any cost”. ‘

 

In other words: I’m so committed to my healing, to my recovery and to live a life of happiness, harmony and shared joy- that I’ll do anything, try anything, no matter how extreme, to test its veracity for a sense of safety, connection and peace. 

 

It goes beyond the average thrill seeking impulsive thoughtless acts of self-destruction now, or extrinsic people pleasing motivation to feel a sense of belonging, no. 

Now I’m walking rogue, aware, disturbed and staring the beast straight in the eyes.

 

Day after day is another spiritual war, full circle, to the distressed, disgusting and disfiguring days of decades bygone. But these decades long lost in the spiral of time, have etched the electric cattle prod of prolonged, repeated, never-ending pain upon my molecular anatomy. 

 

In other words, my normal, is this daily battle, but once I was blinded to it]s nature, locked in a self-destruction spiral towards suicide. Now, I see through the smoke & mirrors and my souls truth, has been aroused by the endurance of my pushing through the perpetual setbacks. 

 

In recent times, it’s become an act of spiritual warfare, of metaphysical duality, in which, both good and evil, are carved upon me, that no matter what I do, or where I go, the longer I go on, the more I see the shadow for what it is, and the shadow aligns to my own secrets. So when I see that my life events, and the stain of the world, are one in the same, 

 

I have to understand the nature of spiritual warfare, and have faith in my self-acceptance, that my experience, has shaped me, and I have the choice to be abused forever, or to stand up, against the adversity that has followed me sinmce my inception, generational, incarnations of soul stains. and the line between madness and mysticism has bowed, broken and traversed to the point of my safety now comes from the danger and chaos, no matter the potential risk. 

 

It's funny how spiritual purpose can really change the trajectory of a life-path. When I say change it, I mean, it's been radically propelled, primarily from the self-discovery, self-understanding and my own coming into my most authentic self. 

 

It all starts with society, the social norms conditioned into us as children warp the perception we grow to inhabit as adults. Souls; young, old and ancient, all face the perpetual journey of being incarnated here, to complete and fulfil whatever journey is unique, to each and every souled being on this planet. 

 

Since birth, I've been aware of my old-soul gnosis, inexplicable intuition that has ruled my emotions since as far back as my memory can span. As environment, personality, genetics and neurobiology all contribute to the complex make up of humans, each soul has it's own customised journey that it has embarked upon, whether the soul is aware of this or not, doesn’t change the essence of time under tension. I've died, and even my spirit was still earth bound, the physical vessel, is the instrument, to attune to the beauty and mystery of life and the planet, earth, that sustains life. 

 

I have traversed hell, heaven and the many realms In between in less than three decades, and I’ve been buried alive, and crawling through dirt, flame & carnal stains to survive suicide, self-hate, and unending self-blame. Now my soul still holds secrets decades old. 

 

 

I can tell you that I've walked the line between life and death hundreds of times, many, unconscious, even for moments, trapped, my soul suspended in time, watching my body from above. It starts as dissociation, which is a natural survival skill adapted in situations my infant-childhood body found herself trapped in. 

 

With each passing birthday, my soul, coupled a self-perpetuating downhill spiral of my own bio-psychosocial makeup, caused ever increasing feelings of sadness, sickness, loneliness, defectiveness, self-desolation, depression, despair and an overwhelming dread that paralysed me into fits of anxiety. I spent most of my childhood in a state of perpetual nausea, disengaged from the world around me, with brief moments of fleeting joy, that were always followed with something that would devour any sense of impending happiness and beat me down with the feeling that something was very wrong in the world, everything and everyone seemed to be alien to me, I hoped, that behind closed doors, that others were like me, and my secrets were not as solitary, or secretive. 

 

Duality is the nature of the universe, right? But the extremes are the exception. The themes of my life extremes, always felt, in the most savage capacity.

My soul and heart have been born, to roar with fire, passionate and extreme measures, becoming my go-to game. 

 

Age seven, how can a child understand, that what she experiences, isn't the norm?  When the norm is so filthy, rotten and deceptive, that the child turns on herself, rejects herself and everything representing herself, in order to split away, and float without aim, to be okay.

 

Dissociative identity disorder and its many fragmented parts that linger between trauma and split moments of transient life, never a constant, only blending into dissected compartments of mind, divided time, split soul now seeks the wholeness stripped by soul-loss.

 

It is here I find a sense of release, or relief, from these slumbering echoes that keep their resonant burning heat, electric cattle prod penetrating, dissecting, displacing. 

 

I had nowhere to go, but beyond, away. 

 

Instead, I looked outside, to find myself, in others. As I had no self or a cohesive sense of self, for inner guidance, I had to seek meaning outside. To be something, worthy, or nothing, just anything beyond the torment in my earlier life. 

 

I have always looked for the good in other people, and I've had to cling to that goodness that I find, which is another coping mechanism I picked up when I was drowning in feelings of deep dread, topped with the delightfully self-degrading but complimentary, pervasive feelings of: disgust, depression, desolation and despair.

 

Childhood wasn't easy. I never want to downplay other people who had pleasant experiences, but I cannot see how any child growing up when I did, could be anything but, royally fucked up, by the level of the unseen, hidden world, that some of us lived day after day. 

 

But I never understood what was happening at the time, it wasn’t until I was 6 or 7 I noticed other girls were “pretty, clean” and I was “dirty, disfigured, dumb, messy, ugly”. 

 

Childhood wasn’t just unclean due to one event. It was everything, every corner of my life was saturated by no choice, no ablity to control what was happening, no matter how much I tried, the magnitude of what happened meant dissociation was my best-friend, and the characters I created in my mind, were who I went out to survive in the world, for decades, this was all I knew.

I made my parts come to life on paper, to create anything, anyone, who was going to be accepted by other people. 

 

I've mastered the actress skill to a level, by the time I was hitting puberty, the endless switches and seamless personalities I'd embody, were the only thing that propelled me forward, fragmented, life lived in glitches and thousands of rainbow characters, who were all "better" than whatever "my real self" was. In the daily roles I would endure, adapt, evolve, and eventually, living a complete lie, strangers, living in my body, memory, or ability to slip my consciousness away from my mind, splitting off into the aether, was the only thing that was possible. 

 

I looked to others, but lacking anything positive, I would cling to anything, desperate and hungry for love, the moment any authentic piece of my soul would slip into action; the people in the world around me rejected and denied her. In fact, I was told, I was bad, evil, naughty and selfish. I was also told I was smart, beautiful and had the world at my fingers. The perpetual double bind only caused my soul to depart, and for years, I lived a very convincing lie.

 

The issue we face is, that nothing was ever safe to blossom, or grow organically. From as young as birth my brain was being pried and tweaked, my soul, heart and spirit; shattered, built up with lies, special-treats & false dichotomies (lose-lose). 

 

I would say by age 3, I had evacuated my soul from body, only transient phases of return, which would always confirm the dreadful day after day, which meant I split my consciousness away over and over again. 

 

I was in grade 1 the last time I saw her,  6 years too long, carnal knowledge is the most heinous soul splitting technique, I felt no hope, no future, no self-awareness, no sense of safety, nothing but this dread, that drowned out anything that was transient, and relatively "normal" childhood experiences. Making them seem, after years of this, redundant, so I became more adept at wearing my characters to find a sense of connection with the people around me. 

Childhood, secrets, silence & secrets of the soul shattered: 

[Reintegrating soul fragments Day 1]

 

Tuesday, 14th July, 2020.

 

 

By now, I have already broken too many promises for goals, and outcomes I set myself, I think this is more of a reflection of my own interaction with the society around me, than my own lack of power to seek out these goals. I have lived a life full of turmoil, obstacles and challenges from the hidden hand, meaning I’m in a perpetual state of “waiting for the next bad thing to come”, but passionate enough to still have this slittge of hope that “maybe this pain will be worthwhile in the end”. 

I have broken so many promises to myself, but I owe it to myself now, to be honest about my life, in order to break free, I must first, release the burden of my souls’ secrets. 

I am in a pioneering phase of integrating childhood dissociation, and I have experimental approaches to “do anything to make it out, at any cost”. ‘

 

In other words: I’m so committed to my healing, my recovery, attempting to live a life of happiness, harmony and shared joy- that I’ll do anything, try anything, no matter how extreme, to test its veracity for a sense of safety, connection and peace. 

 

It goes beyond the average thrill seeking impulsive thoughtless acts of self-destruction now, or extrinsic people pleasing motivation to feel a sense of belonging, no. 

Now I’m walking rogue, aware, disturbed and staring the beast straight in the eyes.

 

Day after day is another spiritual war, full circle, to the distressed, disgusting and disfiguring days of decades bygone. But these decades long lost in the spiral of time, have etched the electric cattle prod of prolonged, repeated, never-ending pain upon my molecular anatomy. 

 

In other words, my normal, is this daily battle, but once I was blinded to it]s nature, locked in a self-destruction spiral towards suicide. Now, I see through the smoke & mirrors and my souls truth, has been aroused by the endurance of my pushing through the perpetual setbacks. 

 

In recent times, it’s become an act of spiritual warfare, of metaphysical duality, in which, both good and evil, are carved upon me, that no matter what I do, or where I go, the longer I go on, the more I see the shadow for what it is, and the shadow aligns to my own secrets. So when I see that my life events, and the stain of the world, are one in the same, 

 

I have had to learn how understand the nature of spiritual warfare, and have faith in my self-acceptance, that my experience, has shaped me, and I have the choice to be abused forever, or to stand up, against the adversity that has followed me since my inception, generational, incarnations of soul stains. and the line between madness and mysticism has bowed, broken.

 

 and traversed to the point of my safety now comes from the danger and chaos, no matter the potential risk. 

 

It's funny how spiritual purpose can really change the trajectory of a life-path. When I say change it, I mean, it's been radically propelled, primarily from the self-discovery, self-understanding and my own coming into my most authentic self. 

 

It all starts with society, the social norms conditioned into us as children warp the perception we grow to inhabit as adults. Souls; young, old and ancient, all face the perpetual journey of being incarnated here, to complete and fulfil whatever journey is unique, to each and every souled being on this planet. 

 

Since birth, I've been aware of my old-soul gnosis, inexplicable intuition that has ruled my emotions since as far back as my memory can span. As environment, personality, genetics and neurobiology all contribute to the complex make up of humans, each soul has it's own customised journey that it has embarked upon, whether the soul is aware of this or not, doesn’t change the essence of time under tension. I've died, and even my spirit was still earth bound, the physical vessel, is the instrument, to attune to the beauty and mystery of life and the planet, earth, that sustains life. 

 

I have traversed hell, heaven and the many realms In between in less than three decades, and I’ve been buried alive, and crawling through dirt, flame & carnal stains to survive suicide, self-hate, and unending self-blame. Now my soul still holds secrets decades old. 

 

 

I can tell you that I've walked the line between life and death hundreds of times, many, unconscious, even for moments, trapped, my soul suspended in time, watching my body from above. It starts as dissociation, which is a natural survival skill adapted in situations my infant-childhood body found herself trapped in. 

 

With each passing birthday, my soul, coupled a self-perpetuating downhill spiral of my own bio-psychosocial makeup, caused ever increasing feelings of sadness, sickness, loneliness, defectiveness, self-desolation, depression, despair and an overwhelming dread that paralysed me into fits of anxiety. I spent most of my childhood in a state of perpetual nausea, disengaged from the world around me, with brief moments of fleeting joy, that were always followed with something that would devour any sense of impending happiness and beat me down with the feeling that something was very wrong in the world, everything and everyone seemed to be alien to me, I hoped, that behind closed doors, that others were like me, and my secrets were not as solitary, or secretive. 

 

Duality is the nature of the universe, right? But the extremes are the exception. The themes of my life extremes, always felt, in the most savage capacity.

My soul and heart have been born, to roar with fire, passionate and extreme measures, becoming my go-to game. 

 

Age seven, how can a child understand, that what she experiences, isn't the norm?  When the norm is so filthy, rotten and deceptive, that the child turns on herself, rejects herself and everything representing herself, in order to split away, and float without aim, to be okay.

 

Dissociative identity disorder and its many fragmented parts that linger between trauma and split moments of transient life, never a constant, only blending into dissected compartments of mind, divided time, split soul now seeks the wholeness stripped by soul-loss.

 

It is here I find a sense of release, or relief, from these slumbering echoes that keep their resonant burning heat, electric cattle prod penetrating, dissecting, displacing. 

 

I had nowhere to go, but beyond, away. 

 

Instead, I looked outside, to find myself, in others. As I had no self or a cohesive sense of self, for inner guidance, I had to seek meaning outside. To be something, worthy, or nothing, just anything beyond the torment in my earlier life. 

 

I have always looked for the good in other people, and I've had to cling to that goodness that I find, which is another coping mechanism I picked up when I was drowning in feelings of deep dread, topped with the delightfully self-degrading but complimentary, pervasive feelings of: disgust, depression, desolation and despair.

 

Childhood wasn't easy. I never want to downplay other people who had pleasant experiences, but I cannot see how any child growing up when I did, could be anything but, royally fucked up, by the level of the unseen, hidden world, that some of us lived day after day. 

 

But I never understood what was happening at the time, it wasn’t until I was 6 or 7 I noticed other girls were “pretty, clean” and I was “dirty, disfigured, dumb, messy, ugly”. 

 

Childhood wasn’t just unclean due to one event. It was everything, every corner of my life was saturated by no choice, no ablity to control what was happening, no matter how much I tried, the magnitude of what happened meant dissociation was my best-friend, and the characters I created in my mind, were who I went out to survive in the world, for decades, this was all I knew.

I made my parts come to life on paper, to create anything, anyone, who was going to be accepted by other people. 

 

I've mastered the actress skill to a level, by the time I was hitting puberty, the endless switches and seamless personalities I'd embody, were the only thing that propelled me forward, fragmented, life lived in glitches and thousands of rainbow characters, who were all "better" than whatever "my real self" was. In the daily roles I would endure, adapt, evolve, and eventually, living a complete lie, strangers, living in my body, memory, or ability to slip my consciousness away from my mind, splitting off into the aether, was the only thing that was possible. 

 

I looked to others, but lacking anything positive, I would cling to anything, desperate and hungry for love, the moment any authentic piece of my soul would slip into action; the people in the world around me rejected and denied her. In fact, I was told, I was bad, evil, naughty and selfish. I was also told I was smart, beautiful and had the world at my fingers. The perpetual double bind only caused my soul to depart, and for years, I lived a very convincing lie.

 

The issue we face is, that nothing was ever safe to blossom, or grow organically. From as young as birth my brain was being pried and tweaked, my soul, heart and spirit; shattered, built up with lies, special-treats & false dichotomies (lose-lose). 

 

I would say by age 3, I had evacuated my soul from body, only transient phases of return, which would always confirm the dreadful day after day, which meant I split my consciousness away over and over again. 

 

I was in grade 1 the last time I saw her,  6 years too long, carnal knowledge is the most heinous soul splitting technique, I felt no hope, no future, no self-awareness, no sense of safety, nothing but this dread, that drowned out anything that was transient, and relatively "normal" childhood experiences. Making them seem, after years of this, redundant, so I became more adept at wearing my characters to find a sense of connection with the people around me.

Borderline to Babalon

 “There are days I wake up, the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. 
I can never remember the carefree bliss of childhood. 
Innocence was not a companion of mine. 
Instead, I was bound by the lacerations of rage, trauma, suffering and mental anguish. 
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t still seethe inside because I am not one of those pure and pristine girls with the perfect straight hair and the flawless and unblemished facade.”
—
Borderline to Babalon