This poem is a window into my inner world, a place I don’t always show to others. It’s about the struggle of wanting to be happy and free while feeling trapped by pain that no one else can see. The lines explore the contrast between the smile I wear for the world and the darkness I carry inside. Writing this was my way of facing those feelings honestly, without pretending they don’t exist. While it’s heavy and raw, there’s a thread of hope woven through it—a quiet belief that one day, I’ll find my way out of the storm. I hope it resonates with anyone who has ever felt unseen, misunderstood, or quietly hurting, and reminds them that even in dark moments, there’s a chance for light.

This poem is about the invisible burdens we carry when someone we trusted hurts us deeply. It’s about the way pain lingers long after words are said, how it settles behind your ribs and bends your hope without anyone noticing. I wrote this because I know what it feels like to move through life carrying the weight of someone else’s neglect, smiling on cue while grief quietly taps at your throat. It’s a reminder that some scars aren’t on the skin, they live in the silence, in the empty spaces left behind, and sometimes the hardest part is surviving them without being seen.

So, to start, let's define some meanings. Omnism is the belief that all religions contain some truth, with no single one holding a monopoly on ultimate reality, and that these faiths often share common goals or wisdom, even if their specific doctrines differ. An omnist recognizes and respects various spiritual paths. I am not an omnist.

Religion has always been a double-edged sword. It can be weaponized to dominate, to segregate, to justify violence and oppression. But it can also be the soil from which love and justice spring. Too often, denominationalism—rigid, exclusive, sometimes arrogant—has aligned itself with systems that breed hierarchy and maintain the status quo. The alternative, non denominationalism, often seeks to erase difference in the name of unity, but in doing so, it can also erase the beauty, the struggle, and the lived realities of diverse communities.

There is a dance between thoughts, words, and reality. Sometimes I think first, then speak, and my words ripple out to shape what happens. Other times, reality smashes into me, forcing words into my mouth and thoughts into my head. This flow is not linear. It is a cycle, a feedback loop. In defining God, we must acknowledge this. When people say, “God is love,” they are not just describing; they are commanding, invoking, creating a reality in which love is divine. When people say, “God is wrath,” they are shaping a world where oppression is justified.

This poem was written for anyone who spent years shrinking themselves to keep love alive. For the ones who stayed quiet, stayed loyal, and stayed hopeful even when their needs went unanswered. It speaks to the kind of pain that doesn’t leave visible marks, the slow erosion that happens when you confuse endurance with devotion and neglect with love. This piece isn’t about bitterness or blame, it’s about naming what it feels like to disappear while trying to be enough for someone who never truly saw you. It’s for those who didn’t leave because they stopped caring, but because caring began to cost them their sense of self. If you’ve ever loved so deeply that you lost your voice in the process, this poem is for you.

I hope you learn something for this, because all of my notes and more will be about mental health so that everyone can learn something new!

This is a dive into a life with BPD and NPD. With my personal experience with it and how it can make life harder while you struggle to help yourself slowly.

What does it mean to have an unwanted guest in someone's life and all they want to do is get rid of them but can't? The invisible chaos, the stranger I never asked to join, and the one who stays throughout this lifetime. It is my greatest enemy but also my greatest teacher as it's taught me that true healing begins when I decide it's time to stop pretending everything is fine. Speaking in truth will never be done in silence, as it takes several pushes and shoves to finally fight back and take back control. This unwanted stranger isn't easy to kick out as it stays in the back of my mind constantly. I don't need an angel to blind this creature, I am becoming the angel in the dead of night who shines its glorious light against this darkness.

I've been standing at this door for weeks. Not a literal door—though there's a closet I haven't opened because I shoved all my unfinished projects in there. But those life thresholds where you have to decide: Do I let this in? Do I keep this out? In Hindu tradition, dvara means door or threshold. Dvarapalas are door guardians who ask: Who gets through? What stays out? Ganesha doesn't remove every obstacle—some are protection. Durga guards fiercely. Hanuman says no even to gods when devotion requires it. This pathworking walks you to your threshold to meet your keeper and make a conscious choice about your door. Not to get it right. Just to choose with your eyes open. [Continue reading the full meditation and journal prompts...]

I've been putting off writing this one. Because who wants to meditate on decay? Who wants to spend time with the goddess whose entire job is presiding over dead things? But here's what keeps nagging at me about Nirṛti (near-REE-tee, and I'm probably butchering that): she's essential. Without her, nothing new could grow. Without decay, no transformation. My youngest is convinced our backyard compost heap is magic because we throw in garbage and somehow get soil. He's not wrong. So maybe you're in that season where nothing is growing. Or maybe something actually died—a relationship, a dream, a version of yourself you were sure you'd become. And everyone's telling you to "let go" and "move forward" as if grief has an expiration date. This pathworking walks you to the corner of the garden nobody wants to visit—where things break down, where ruins become soil, where failure becomes wealth. Fair warning: the goddess of decay doesn't do light and fluffy. But I'll be here with you.

In my experience, glossing over the truth out of fear of confrontation does little to help someone who is spiraling downward. I have seen firsthand how silence or enabling behavior only allows harm to continue unchecked. This is echoed in many religious and philosophical teachings. The Christian Bible, for instance, urges, “Speak the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15), emphasizing that honesty should be delivered with compassion and not with harshness. Similarly, the Jewish tradition values “tochacha,” or loving rebuke, as an obligation to help others turn away from harmful paths, but always in a manner that preserves their dignity.

Similarly, the Quran encourages, “Indeed, with hardship [will be] ease” (Quran 94:6). This simple, profound truth reminds me that struggles are not permanent. There is always a way forward, and often, in the midst of my greatest challenges, seeds of opportunity and growth are planted. These words help me frame setbacks not as endings, but as necessary steps in the journey toward something better.

Living with the intention to produce positivity is not just a spiritual idea; it has real, everyday benefits. I have seen in my own life, and in my community, that when we focus on spreading good—through acts of kindness, forgiveness, generosity, or just a smile—we change the energy around us. The world is full of negativity, and as a Black man, I know the weight of stereotypes, systemic injustice, and daily microaggressions. Yet, when I choose to respond with positivity, I reclaim my power. This is not about ignoring the real pain or injustice we face, but about refusing to let it define us. The teachings of many traditions support this.

This is a short story based in the world that the video game Arc Raiders takes place in. If you are unfamiliar I have attached the lore below. ARC Raiders lore centers on humanity's struggle for survival underground after a cataclysm known as the Collapse (around 2180) devastated Earth, followed by the arrival of mysterious, advanced robots called ARC, forcing survivors into subterranean cities like Speranza (in former Italy). Raiders risk the dangerous surface to scavenge resources, battling waves of increasingly advanced ARC machines, while uncovering clues about the machines' origins—speculated to be linked to humans who escaped Earth via an "Exodus" project or an AI takeover, with the machines possibly trying to reclaim the planet.

This poem/prayer was originally written as the intro to a blog post on rantingsofasouthernmadwoman.wordpress.com.

This was originally written for a contest. The prompt was that it had to start with the line "something was moving in the dark".

What Do I Wish People Knew About Me, Before Speaking To Me? This is just something random I wrote, it was prompted by how me and my friends are drifting apart and I feel like not many people actually know me. (Also first time posting, and NOT MY WRITING PROMPT IDEA, Creds to Wonderlandington from Pinterest)

As an Italian American myself, I’ve been intrigued by him aesthetically after having met him in person more than once (I may be obsessed. He’s so beautiful and ethereal). I found him extremely pleasant once I got past his imposing, intimidating exterior. Let’s look deeper in a surgical sense in contrast to my last article discussing him more superficially.

The reaping of a god A body barely holding together Its viscera on my feathers Aren’t you glad you don’t have a Birds Eye view?