I find integral value in the rich flourishing of human intellectual and artistic aptitude. As a seasoned master of self-preservation, the understanding of self has been a preeminent theme in my life over the past seven years. I have found the endless pre-occupation with one’s own life to be a narcissistic enterprise in which the individual contradictorily encounters bloody tears, deranged melodic laughter, piercing personal confrontation, and critical unexplored capabilities in which greater capacities and expectations arise.


Self is a sea boundless and measureless; allowing the treasures of your infinite depths unfold like a lotus of countless petals creates a new lease on life resulting from a strengthened sense of life purpose and meaning.

The world is needlessly awash in disingenuous, slack-jawed worship evoked by outer glamour which has brought upon the turbulence of an individual subconsciously allowing themselves to fall for cascading clichés. Although this is my personal opinion of what my internal bullshit detector discerns as falsity, I have arrived at a profound understanding and acceptance that my values can be and are wildly deviating from the next individuals values.

You cannot please everyone. Living a life designed to fit everyone else’s expectations will lead to living an impaired and miserable existence. You can jadedly eat up every chunk of self-help that comes across your pixellated screens, but it is considerably ineffective if you don’t know yourself well enough to put the factual suggestions into practice.

Essentially, I am a woman who in solitary contemplation enters spellbinding chapels of the interior of the mind, where none but limpid deities may enter.


May you


the art and

importance of the

endlessly liberating

examination of self.

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