Wellness
Moderate this Zuck
Ah, moderation. It’s a concept we often discuss, yet rarely do we pause to fully understand its implications. In its purest form, moderation is the art of balance, the practice of ensuring that no single perspective drowns out the chorus of voices in a conversation. But let’s not kid ourselves: moderation, like power, is a tool. And the outcome of that tool depends entirely on who wields it. When bias creeps in, moderation loses its integrity. It stops being a bridge between...
Hate: Toxic energy & wasted potential
Hate, as they say, is a strong word. It is also a costly one. It demands your energy, attention, and—most damning of all—your time. For the weak and the impulsive, hatred can feel like fuel, a fire that drives their every move. But I have learned that my energy is finite, and I refuse to waste it on something so fruitless.
I used to think that proving myself required battling every slight, every obstacle, every person who stood in my way. But over time, I’ve come to...
Starter pistol has been fired.
I'm done trying to be heard. Done with the endless shouting into the void, hoping for an echo of recognition. Spinning my wheels for people who don’t care enough to notice, who take without offering so much as a glance in return—it’s a fool’s game, and I’ve played it long enough. Call me a narcissist if it helps you sleep at night, but I’ve learned that pleasing everyone leaves you with no one, least of all yourself. And I’m finished with that...
I have the key, do you?
Doors. They’re the great equalizers. They don’t care who’s on the other side—friends, foes, or someone who can’t seem to decide which they are. A door is a test, a challenge. It asks one simple question: Are you worthy of coming in? And if someone already walked out once, you’ve got every right to let that door stay shut.
When they walked away, it wasn’t a mistake—it was a decision. A calculated move. They decided their odds were better...
It's good to be the King
Being a fuckoffologist—mastering the art of selectively disengaging—is about honing an instinct most never fully develop: the ability to read yourself before trying to read the room. You understand that sometimes the most powerful move you can make is to say absolutely nothing. To shut the fuck up, not out of weakness or uncertainty, but because you’re calculating. Waiting. Holding the cards everyone else is desperate to see.
The satisfaction in this is profound. It’s...
Ain’t she precious?
Life, my dear, is like walking a dog in the middle of a busy park. You’re holding the leash, pretending to be in control, when suddenly the mutt squats right there on the path. Now you’re faced with the classic dilemma: do you pick it up and deal with the mess, or leave it behind and hope no one notices? Spoiler: life always notices.
The thing about dog shit is, it’s inevitable. No matter how much you plan, no matter how perfect your route, that dog will do its business....
We are all tourists in space.
Earth spins on its axis like a great cosmic spindle, a wheel that never stops turning. And here we are—tourists. Every single one of us just passing through, pretending we’ve got all the time in the world to figure things out. Some of us act like the wheel’s just a nice background feature, something to admire while we sit in neutral, waiting for life to hand us a sign. Others? They make a half-hearted attempt at a bucket list, cramming all their so-called dreams into some...
Over Commitment Paralysis
A state of extreme psychological disturbance in which an individual, overwhelmed by a flood of tasks or responsibilities, experiences a break from typical cognitive and emotional functioning. Unlike ordinary stress or procrastination, Overcommitment Paralysis—viewed through a psychotic lens—involves a profound distortion of perception, thinking, and behavior, as the burden of obligations becomes so vast that it alters one’s sense of reality.
Core Features
Distorted...
Chaos crafts perfection
Scars? Heart problems? Depression? Anxiety? Fake teeth? Oh, I’ve got the whole damn set. Go ahead, line them up, one by one, like they’re trophies on a shelf. But let’s not stop there—add in every wrong turn, every reckless decision, every single time life pointed left and I said, Let’s see what happens if I go right instead. I didn’t just trip along the way; I veered straight off the map, into places no one should survive, and yet here I am. Alive....
The first lesson in life
Weakness. A fascinating creature, isn’t it? It doesn’t barrel through the door with a roar. It slips in quietly, unassuming, like a shadow at dusk, until you realize it’s taken root in your bones. My weakness wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t even my own. It was crafted, meticulously, in one place: her room.
Her room. The battleground. The stage. The theater where she performed her greatest work—humiliation, played to a captive...
Will we dance together or apart? We will dance.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you about me. The symphony was there from the beginning, as constant and undeniable as the rising sun, as vast and unyielding as the endless sky. Each note struck with purpose, each crescendo carefully calibrated to stir your very soul. But you didn’t listen. Oh, you heard it—you couldn’t help but hear it—but you ignored it, didn’t you? Thought you could drown it out with your own noise. Thought you could outplay me.
Foolish....
The power of the pen compels you
When I write, I’m a God. For a moment, for however long the pen glides across the page or my fingers dance across the keys, I am not bound by the mundane. I am limitless. It’s better than a lucid dream because in those, you’re merely a spectator with a hint of control. But here? Here I don’t just watch—I create. I visualize not just where I go, but where I take you with me.
Every word is a brushstroke, every sentence a command. Worlds rise and fall because I...
Sayfa Oluştur
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The Corleone family secret.
In The Godfather Part III, Michael Corleone attempts to explain Fredo’s death to his...
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