The Awakening

These people always talking about this and that based on the old ways of thinking, my mind never worked that way, money ment to be spent, not horded,people are human beings not cattle,life is precious, not ment to be spent waisted on bs, love and time is infinite and if you can’t understand that then are you really understanding. 

More Than Words:Where Souls Unite

When a person is meant to be a part of your life,a part of your world,your space, a part of your existence first of all there won’t be any excuses not to.They will make every effort to understand you, be there for you,learn everything about you,everything that they can from you,they study you like a test that they are going to take,they take every chance they can to make you smile,they don’t play doormat or bow down to you, the keep it real,tell it to you just how you need to hear it sometimes without being overbearing. They understand that in order to be with you it requires more than just speaking the words I love you. This is where souls unite 

Where Black Angles Wait- A Increased Coins LLC Short Story

Dorlisa was a young woman who dreamed big and lived by the values she believed in.

She loved movies, romance novels, spending time with family, and especially black angels, which, to her, symbolized hope, protection, and the promise that no one is ever truly alone.

She had a beautiful spirit and a heart that could light up a room with her smile.

We called each other "my ace boon coon," a phrase we made up that meant tighter than tight.

We weren't just brother and sister—we were best friends.

We laughed together, argued like siblings do, and sometimes bumped heads, but our lovefor each other never changed.

Through every joy and every hardship, our mother, Sarah, was the steady foundation of our family.

She was the rock that held us together, andwe were inseparable because, in many ways, we were all each other had.

My mom was more than a mother; she was both a mother and a father—a true warrior.

When my sister’s husband left, my mom stepped in, without hesitation, to help raise her two sons: James, the oldest, and Jermaine, the youngest.

She never complained or asked why.

She simply loved them with all her heart.

Her strength, sacrifice, and unconditional love carried our family through some of the darkest moments of our lives.

Then, at only 30 years old... everything changed.

My sister became suddenly ill.

The first hospital visit turned into a nightmare when she was misdiagnosed and sent home.

I remember that day like it was yesterday.

She was lying on the couch across from me, looking tired and scared, and quietly asked me for a hug.

Trying to lighten the moment, I joked and told her not to worry... that everything would be okay.

But deep inside, I felt something wasn't right.

We were all frightened, even if we didn't want to admit it.

Not long afterward, she was admitted to another hospital.

This time, the doctors discovered the truth no family ever wants to hear: ovarian cancer.

Those words hit us like a storm that changed everything in an instant.

Our world stopped.

Yet, through the fear, my mom, my sister, andI held tightly to our faith, our prayers, and the hope that somehow a miracle would come.

We spent countless days and sleepless nights traveling back and forth to the hospital, playing those same songs on repeat—"Prayer Changes" and "You Saved Me"—refusing to leave her side.

Sarah was remarkable.

She comforted my sister, cared for James and Jermaine, and somehow found the strength to hold the rest of us together, even while her own heart was breaking.

Watching her carry that burden with such grace is something I will never forget.

Then came the phone call that shattered our hearts.

My sister had slipped into a coma.

I can still hear her final words as clearly today as I did then.

With a soft voice filled with love, courage, and sadness, she looked at our mother and said,

"Momma, don't cry. It's going to be alright. I'm sorry for this burden. I won't be here to see them grow up, but please take care of James and Jermaine for me. You are all they have."

My mom’s tears fell without end, but through her pain, she made a promise.

She would love those boys, protect them, and raise them as if they were her own children.

It was a promise she intended to keep with every ounce of strength she had left.

As for me, I was left carrying a different kind of pain... regret.

I regret not realizing how serious her illness really was.

I regret the conversations we never had, the wordsI never spoke, and, most of all, the hug I never gave her when she asked for it that day on the couch.

It is a memory that has stayed with me through the years, reminding me never to take the people we love for granted.

Time moves forward, but grief has no calendar.

Some days, the pain feels fresh, while other days, the memories bring smiles instead of tears.

Through it all, I choose to believe that the black angels my sister loved so much are watching over her—and over us—guiding us through the darkest nights until we meet again.

This is my sister’s story.

Gone far too soon... but never forgotten.

Her life lives on through her sons, through our memories, and through every life she touched.

Until we meet again, Sis...

I'm sending hugs to Where Black Angels Wait.

I love you, always and forever.

Ebook available on TikTok,YouTube,facebook, Instagram so check it out

Imagine This…

We always replacing one thing one thing for another right, but what if we replaced all the boredom with iideas instead of food. You know how people eat when they’re bored instead of hungry…but what if when you’re bored instead of eating you do something productive, you know, put an idea of yours into play,or that project that you keep putting off or whatever it may be,even if it’s just going for a walk, you did that instead of eating.. I wonder what would happen

The Measure Of Ones Success

Take all the things that you’re good at and combine them all into one to create your own unique thing. When you stop letting everyone else tell you who you are and following everyone else’s path then you start to see you. See most people don’t care about you and what you want they mainly just want you to fit into their story and not combine the two to create something unique,that’s why you have to write your own story instead of becoming someone else’s. If people are meant to be a part of your story they can be written in. Most would have you believe that success is backbreaking hard,following patterns, when it’s simple and straightforward and easy, creating them. Follow me,subscribe to all my content,shop my store show your love.

High Heels- A Short Story

A story of a man and a woman’s secret taboo and dominance driven relationship in which high heels was their safe word as well as their secret code phrase for all of their correspondence.

The fluorescent lights of the boardroom hummed, a sterile drone that filled the silence between quarterly projections. Angela kept her gaze fixed on the spreadsheet, though the numbers blurred. Beside her, Devin leaned back in his leather chair, his presence a heavy weight that seemed to pull the oxygen from the room. He didn't look at her, but she felt the heat of him.

Devin tapped a gold pen against his chin. His voice cut through the hum, deep and resonant.

"The projections for the third quarter are optimistic, but lacks rigor. Angela, you handled the data entry."

Angela straightened, her spine clicking. "I followed the parameters provided by the regional office, Mr. Sterling."

"Parameters are for people who can't think for themselves."

A few colleagues chuckled. Angela felt a flush creep up her neck, a mixture of shame and an electric current that sparked in her gut. 

"Correct it by five," Devin said, finally turning to look at her. His dark eyes held a flicker of something that wasn't professional critique.

As the meeting adjourned, the room emptied into a flurry of chatter and shuffling papers. Angela lingered, pretending to organize her notes. Once the door clicked shut, Devin stood. He didn't approach her; he simply waited.

Angela reached for her phone, her thumb hovering over the messaging app. She typed three words and hit send.

*Update on high heels?*

Devin’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He typed back a single time and location.

*My place. Eight. High heels.*

The drive to his penthouse felt like a descent into another world. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon. By the time Angela stepped out of the elevator, her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She wore a conservative charcoal dress, but beneath it, her skin prickled with anticipation.

The door opened before she could knock. Devin stood there, his tie loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. He didn't step aside to let her in. He blocked the threshold, his frame filling the space.

"You're three minutes late," he said.

"The traffic on 5th was—"

"I didn't ask for an excuse."

Angela dropped her gaze to his polished shoes. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Better."

He stepped back, allowing her entry into the minimalist expanse of the apartment. Glass walls revealed a sprawling skyline, but the interior was all shadows and dark velvet. The air smelled of sandalwood and expensive bourbon.

"Strip," he commanded, walking toward the lounge. "Everything. Leave it in a pile by the door."

Angela’s breath hitched. She moved slowly, the fabric of her dress sliding down her skin with a soft hiss. She felt exposed, the cool air of the penthouse raising goosebumps on her arms. When she stood naked, trembling slightly, she looked at him.

Devin sat on the edge of a low black sofa, watching her with a predatory stillness. He pointed to the floor at his feet.

"Kneel."

She obeyed, the cold marble pressing into her knees. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching.

"Did you think about the parameters today?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes, Sir."

"And did you enjoy being corrected in front of the board?"

"I... I did."

Devin reached out, his large hand cupping her jaw. His thumb traced the line of her lower lip, pulling it down slightly. The contrast of his deep brown skin against her pale complexion was a visual symphony that made her dizzy.

"You crave the structure, don't you? The knowledge that someone else holds the leash."

"Please," she whispered.

"Please what, Angela? Be specific."

"Please tell me what to do."

He released her abruptly and stood up, walking to a sideboard where a set of leather restraints lay. The metallic clink of the buckles echoed in the quiet room.

"Hands behind your back."

She complied, the leather biting into her wrists as he tightened the straps. He moved with a clinical precision, his touch firm and devoid of hesitation. He pushed her forward, forcing her chest against the cool surface of the sofa.

"You were distracted during the meeting," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "I could see your mind drifting. You weren't thinking about the projections. You were thinking about this."

"I couldn't help it," she gasped.

"I don't want your help. I want your obedience."

He retrieved a thin cane from a velvet-lined box. He tapped it against his palm, a rhythmic, menacing sound. 

"Ten for the distraction. Five for the tardiness. Do you understand the tally?"

"Fifteen, Sir."

"Count them for me. If you lose track, we start over."

The first strike was a sudden, searing line of heat across her backside. Angela arched her back, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

"One!" she shouted.

The second strike followed instantly.

"Two!"

By the seventh, her skin was flaming, her breath coming in ragged sobs. The pain was a focal point, stripping away the corporate facade, the social expectations, the fear of discovery. Here, in the dark, she wasn't a junior analyst and he wasn't a senior executive. They were simply two forces locked in a dance of power.

"Nine!" she screamed, her voice cracking.

The final strike landed with a heavy thud.

"Ten!"

He didn't stop. He continued the count, the strikes landing with rhythmic cruelty.

"Eleven!"

"Twelve!"

As the thirteenth strike landed, a sudden, sharp panic flared in Angela’s chest. The intensity had climbed too high, the pain crossing the line from pleasure to genuine distress. Her breathing became erratic, her vision blurring.

"High heels!" she gasped.

The silence that followed was instantaneous. Devin stopped mid-swing. He didn't move for a heartbeat, then he stepped back, the cane clicking as he set it aside. 

He reached down and unbuckled the restraints with steady fingers. As soon as her hands were free, Angela collapsed forward, sobbing into the velvet upholstery.

Devin didn't offer a platitude. He didn't apologize. He simply sat beside her and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his massive arms around her. He held her with a surprising tenderness, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Breathe, Angela. Just breathe."

She clung to him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. The transition from the dominant master to the protective anchor was the part of their arrangement she loved most.

"I'm okay," she whispered after a few minutes, her voice shaking. "I just... it got too much."

"That's why we have the word," he said, his voice soft but firm. "The moment you say it, the world stops. Do you trust me?"

"With everything."

He kissed her forehead, the scent of sandalwood enveloping her. 

"Go wash up. I'll pour us some wine."

As Angela stood in the shower, letting the warm water soothe her skin, her phone buzzed on the vanity. It was a notification from a group chat with her colleagues. They were discussing a weekend brunch to celebrate the end of the quarter.

She looked at the screen, then at the red marks on her skin. The duality of her life felt like a tightrope walk over a canyon. If anyone knew—if the board found out about the nature of her relationship with Mr. Sterling—the fallout would be catastrophic. The racial dynamics, the power imbalance, the professional breach; it was a recipe for a public execution.

She stepped out of the shower and dried herself, dressing in a silk robe. When she returned to the living room, Devin was standing by the window, two glasses of deep red Cabernet in his hands.

"The brunch," she said, taking a glass.

"What brunch?"

"The team wants to get together this weekend."

Devin turned, his expression unreadable. "And?"

"I don't know if I can go. I'll be... sore."

Devin walked toward her, his presence once again filling her periphery. He took the glass from her hand and set it on the table.

"You will go. You will wear a dress that covers everything, and you will act as though you despise my every word in public."

"I can do that," she whispered.

"Good. Because the thrill isn't just in the room, Angela. It's in the secret. It's in the way you look at me across a table, knowing exactly what I did to you two nights prior."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. 

"Now, tell me. What is the code for our next meeting?"

"High heels," she murmured.

"And what does it mean when you say it in this room?"

"It means stop. It means I'm safe."

"Correct."

The following week was a grueling exercise in restraint. In the office, Devin was a tyrant. He tore apart her reports and pushed her to the brink of exhaustion. To the rest of the staff, he was a demanding boss with an impossible standard. To Angela, every sharp critique was a coded caress.

On Thursday, a new intern, a bright-eyed young man named Marcus, began shadowing Angela. He was observant, perhaps too observant.

"You seem really stressed, Angela," Marcus said as they walked toward the breakroom. "Mr. Sterling is a nightmare. I don't know how you handle him without snapping."

Angela forced a laugh, her heart skipping. "You just get used to the rhythm. He wants perfection."

"It seems like more than that," Marcus mused, glancing back at Devin’s closed office door. "The way he looks at you... it's like he's studying you. It's almost intense."

Angela felt a cold sweat break across her neck. "He's just thorough."

As they entered the breakroom, Angela’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She stepped away to check the message.

*High heels. Friday. Midnight.*

She felt a surge of adrenaline that nearly knocked her over. She typed back a quick confirmation.

Friday arrived with a torrential downpour that turned the city into a blurred watercolor of grey and black. Angela arrived at the penthouse drenched, her hair clinging to her cheeks. 

Devin was waiting for her, but this time, he wasn't in the lounge. He was in the bedroom, the lights dimmed to a deep crimson. A single chair sat in the center of the room, facing away from the door.

"Strip and wait," he commanded.

Angela obeyed, her movements hurried. She stood naked in the red light, the silence of the room heavy and expectant.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair.

She sat, her skin humming. Devin approached her, not with the cane, but with a blindfold of black silk. He tied it securely, plunging her into a world of sound and touch.

"I heard you were talking to the intern," he whispered, his voice dangerously low.

Angela froze. "We were just... he was asking about the workflow."

"Were you?"

She felt the cold slide of metal against her collarbone. A collar. He snapped it shut around her neck, the click sounding like a gavel.

"You are mine, Angela. In this room, you are nothing but what I allow you to be. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The world thinks we are opposites. They think we are a collision of worlds that should never touch. Let them think that. Let them wonder why you tremble when I walk past your desk."

He spent the next hour exploring her senses, using ice and heat, feathers and rough linen. Without her sight, every touch was amplified, every word a command that echoed in the void. He pushed her to the edge of her endurance, teasing her, denying her, and then granting her release with a sudden, overwhelming intensity.

As the night wound down, they lay tangled in the sheets, the rain still drumming against the glass walls.

"Do you ever worry?" Angela asked, her voice small.

Devin shifted, pulling her closer. "Worry about what?"

"That we'll get caught. That the taboo will be too much."

Devin was silent for a long time. He traced the line of the collar still resting around her neck.

"The danger is the fuel, Angela. If this were easy, if this were 'normal,' you wouldn't crave it this much. The forbidden nature of us is what makes the surrender possible."

"I know," she whispered. "I just... sometimes I feel like I'm living two lives."

"You aren't," he said, kissing her shoulder. "You're just finally living a real one."

He sat up, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He typed a message and sent it to her, even though she was lying right beside him.

Her phone chimed.

*High heels. Next Tuesday.*

Angela smiled, closing her eyes as she drifted toward sleep, the weight of the collar a comforting reminder of exactly where she belonged.

TikTok Time-Bomb

While I do like the option to sell on their platform,they seem to be getting worse by the day,regarding sh**content,but this is mainly regarding selling guidelines. If you’re a seller you get the sh** end of the stick so to speak when it comes to returns and fraudulent transactions.

The Search That Changed Everything

Every day, billions of people search for the same things: weather, news, money, AI, jobs, health, love, games, music, movies, travel, food, technology, and one simple question—"How?”

Every day, billions of people search for the same things: weather, news, money, AI, jobs, health, love, games, music, movies, travel, food, technology, and one simple question—"How?"

One morning, a young dreamer named Angel noticed a strange pattern. Every answer he found online pointed toward the same truth: people weren't just searching for information—they were searching for a better life.

He checked the weather before leaving home, read the latest news, searched for ways to make money, explored new AI tools, looked at job opportunities, and researched healthier habits. Along the way, he listened to music, watched movies for inspiration, planned future travel, enjoyed good food, and stayed connected through technology.

As the days passed, Angel realized that the world's most popular searches had something in common. They all began with curiosity, but only action turned searches into success.

Instead of endlessly searching, he started building. He learned new skills, launched a small business, helped others solve problems, and shared what he discovered. Soon, people were searching for his story.

The internet had billions of answers, but the greatest one wasn't hidden in an algorithm.

It was hidden in the courage to stop searching and start creating.

Sometimes the most valuable result isn't found on the first page of a search engine—it's written by the person brave enough to become the answer others are looking for.

Number One

The world knew him only as one.From the moment he could understand the concept of ranking, the boy had a singular, all-consuming ambition.To be number one.Not the best at something in particular, but the absolute, undisputed numerical champion of existence itself.His childhood posters weren't of athletes or musicians, but of pie charts with the top slice highlighted.And leaderboards with a gleaming gold one at the summit.

His life became a monochrome algorithm of optimization.He worked with a ruthless mechanical precision, viewing every interaction, every skill learned, every hour slept as data points feeding the ultimate output,his ascension to the top.He ate nutrient slurry for peak efficiency, slept in precisely timed cycles for optimal recovery, and his dreams were not of fantastical lands,but of endless ladders, with only one rung visible, at the very top.

Friends were distractions, love was an inefficient variable.Happiness was a byproduct he would collect later, once he arrived.And arrive he did.The day came when every measurable metric, wealth, influence, accolades, public recognition, converged into a unanimous verdict.The world's media, algorithms, and collective consciousness declared him the undisputed number one.There was no one above him.The screen was blank after his name.

He stood on the pinnacle he had sacrificed everything to reach, expecting a tsunami of fulfillment.Instead he felt a hollow, howling wind.The view from number one was not of triumph, but of terrifying, infinite emptiness.There was no two to gloat over, no three to chase.There was only the endless flat plain of after.For weeks he was paralyzed.The machine of his ambition had no instructions for this.Then, one clear cold morning, he looked not at the empty space above, but at the vast sprawling landscape below.

He saw the interconnected web of lives, stories, struggles, and tiny triumphs,He had ignored on his vertical climb.He saw a young artist painting a mural of vibrant, messy color, a teacher patiently helping a struggling child,a neighbor sharing a meal with someone who was lonely.A profound and simple truth settled upon him, quieting the relentless drumbeat that had been his heart's only rhythm.Number one is only a statement.It is one number in a universe of infinite numbers.

Achieving it was not an end.It was the end of a childish singular pursuit and the beginning of a real complex existence.The climb had taught him discipline, but the plateau taught him purpose.The goal was never the number.The goal was what the journey turned you into, and what you chose to do with the summit once you arrived.He stepped down from the lonely peak.He began to use his resources not to maintain his rank, but to amplify the voices of others.

He mentored, not to create rivals, but to nurture potential.He connected people, built bridges where he had once built walls.He learned to laugh at a joke that wasn't about winning, and felt the warmth of a hand offered in friendship, not competition.He discovered that while there will always be new goals to achieve,the true measure of an existence is not in the singular digits you accumulate,But in the countless lives you touch, the kindness you seed, and the small human moments of meaning you create.His life was no longer a count-up to one.It became a story, a rich, sprawling, imperfect, and beautiful story, that finally began to count.

What You Know Won’t Hurt You

Many people assume poverty affects only a small portion of society, but the reality is far different. Around the world, billions of people live with limited access to quality housing, healthcare, education, and financial security. Even in wealthy nations, millions struggle to cover basic living expenses despite working full-time.

At the same time, the majority of wealth is concentrated in the hands of a relatively small percentage of the population. Studies consistently show that the richest individuals and households control a disproportionately large share of assets, investments, and financial resources. While the bottom half of the population owns only a small fraction of total wealth, the top tiers hold the overwhelming majority.

Understanding this gap is not about creating division—it's about recognizing how resources are distributed. Knowledge of economic inequality helps people make informed decisions about education, careers, investments, and public policy. The truth is simple: what you know won't hurt you. What you don’t know just might.We glorify people in power while we live in poverty and many are content 

Politics & Social Media Platforms

I feel that social media sites should restrict anything that has to do with politics. I do not think that politics should be allowed on these social media websites, when I decide to go on a social platform I want to be entertained no drained by listening to a bunch of deluded  political views.

Whatnot Return To Sender Packages Policy

Whatnot has a ridiculous policy where if a buyer gives you the wrong or incomplete address and the package is returned to sender they charged all fees for that transaction to the seller. This is impractical, immoral and down right unethical. My thought, Whatnot get your sh** together!!! This is NOT how you treat your sellers, they make you

Everybody’s Gotta Have A Dream

Everybody’s got to have a dream, and I’m living mines. Walking up to a new day, a new opportunity to do something new, something different,to change yesterdays outcome.

That Good Ole American Dream

I love to see people achieve their goals,their dreams,the things that make them feel successful,feel fulfilled or complete, but my idea of success is doing whatever it is that makes you happy,makes you feel successful,not what others would want for you or themselves.You see people will always feel compelled to push their visions on you because this is what they want for you,while sometimes this may work,it’s still not your vision. When I personally started thinking I’m going to follow my own path to success ,stop worrying about how I look to others,stop worrying about the ramifications of self care,self love, then and only then things started to align. Stay focused,stay healthy, stay positive, and keep living your best life.

Tough Love

Have people just forgotten how to be human beings? Is it all about ego? Society acceptance? Spite? I don’t know but I seem to like both my hands so no, I will not cut off one to get back at the other..(MESSAGE!!) reason or being logical is not designed for the average person, it only adds complexity and confusion in someone so far gone that only the spiritual jaws of life can pull them out of their own asses. 

A Win A Win 🥇

Just curious, is doing anything to get a win really a win.. people will go to great lengths to validate what they believe in or to spite someone or something that they don’t. I feel pity for those who’s negative energy train of thought is “by any means necessary”, because sometimes any can carry too heavy of a cost. 

In The Air (part 1)

The alarm cut through the silence like a verdict, and David's eyes opened to the pale blue hush of early morning. Before his feet even touched the cold hardwood floor, his lips were already moving — a quiet prayer offered upward to a ceiling that seemed, in that still moment, to stretch all the way to heaven. Thank you for waking me to see another day. He asked for blessings on those who needed them, for productivity, for positivity, for prosperity — the three pillars he'd built his mornings upon. Then he lay there, just breathing, staring at the ceiling for a long, unhurried five minutes, letting the gratitude settle into his bones like warm light.

He rose with the easy confidence of a man who believed, genuinely believed, that the universe had arranged something good for him today. He pushed open the bedroom window and the October air slipped in cool and sharp, carrying the smell of wet leaves and something else — something faintly metallic he couldn't name and didn't try to. The morning news flickered on from the living room television, the anchor's voice already edged with urgency, already cataloguing disasters, so David turned his back on it and moved to the kitchen, where the French vanilla cappuccino began its slow, sweet miracle in the machine.

He settled at the table with his light breakfast, the mug warm between both hands, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling as sunlight stretched across the floor in long golden panels. He had absolutely no idea. Not the faintest shadow of a premonition. The coffee was perfect, the morning was quiet, and somewhere outside — just three houses down — his neighbor Thomas was standing in his driveway watching a police cruiser roll slowly up the street.

Options & Choices

We’re always given choices as long as we’re breathing, you should do this, you should be like that, what are you going to choose,something better than the usual shitty options provided or..

People-Places-Things-Realistic Expectations

What if you stopped worrying about your persona, what other people think of you.. because it’s okay to say I don’t have it, or I can’t do it if it’s not within your boundaries at that time. It’s either understood or not, but the world keeps on going either way. Something that I’m still working on 

“The universe tends to unfold itself”

I am not the center of the universe, the universe is the center of me. Adapt this and watch how everything changes in your life. I am not a so called guru,philosopher,motivational speaker or any thing like that, but knowledge comes in all forms so I give it how it comes to me and maybe I can contribute to the good of this universe.

Keep It Moving

While the fast lane is immensely overrated, some things are better done quickly because of the fact that it doesn’t take all the extra, all the dressing, all the fluff to get to the end results. To slow down just long enough to observe when is the obstacle

life in the fast lane

I see it, I understand it, I am aware of it..The world wants-excepts you to keep up,move fast,stop paying attention to what’s in front of you.I don’t know about you,but I like taking my time seriously,enjoying my life and being in the moments.  

Hypnotizing Clock Spinning In Reverse

Ever felt time actually slip backwards for fifteen seconds?

I filmed myself trying that backwards spiral dozens of times.

Most people call it a cool filter, but it actually warps when you think events happened.

When the hands spin back I felt future moments turn into memories.

Watching It blow up overnight, hundreds of millions watching in ahhh right now, is it amazement, is it disbelief, curiosity and want to know why and if this works, well the switch is inside you, will you turn it on?

For me it was quick, a feeling, a notion and a strange tilt in the head, then normal life returned.

Try it for fifteen seconds and notice where your mind lands.

Don’t watch while doing anything that needs focus, yeah..

Democrats & Republicans

I really don’t do politics, but I wish that people would just stop with the hiding behind so called political parties. There is no republican or democrat only groups or gangs of selfish egotistical narcissists 

No day like today

Today is a new day that the divine spirit has blessed you with,a new chance,a new opportunity,so what will it be🤔

From Pre-diabetic to no diabetic in 3 months

Realize-Recognize-React my slogan,my motto,the way that I approach most life situations. First is the realization that there is something there,next I recognize that that something needs to be addressed, then I react by working to fix that something,but know this,until you are ready to be fully aware, there is no point,because you have to be here to be present. Nothing is easy unless your mind accepts and adapts that mentality. This is not a money thing,this is another attempt at giving you what I know to possibly be helpful to someone.I can share my method of how I was able to go from countless dr appointments with same blood work results your pre diabetic and either need to add more medications to my list,nooooo.. how can I,or can I make some lifestyle changes to fix it naturally was the question to my doc and to myself. Well I went through trial and error but stayed diligent and in 3 months went to a follow up appointment and was told your no longer pre-diabetic so… 

Nothing But The Truth

I live by trial and error, so I’ll forever be making mistakes and learning,that’s reality.I’m no motivational speaker no expert on any subject or situation. I just give it how it comes to me,raw and unfiltered so to speak. You can’t get to the end of and journey without the process, and anyone claiming different is definitely lying. You can’t be here if you’re not present.. it’s the process that makes the journey..Most people won’t tell you the truth or at least not the whole truth pertaining to what it takes to achieve things.They lie,leave things out and only give you bits and pieces of information. I focus on the process,enjoy the process and the journey is oh so much sweeter

Authenticity Is A Fallacy

Artificial: made, produced, or done by humans especially to seem like something natural. I commend anyone that isn’t afraid to be themselves, dare to be different. In this day in time It’s damn near impossible to be original,even when someone has the notion that they are,it’s mostly just regurgitating remnants of something from before. Just being yourself is original in my opinion. 

live ~ laugh ~ love

Unconditionally 

• Live  By a faith that surpasses all normal understanding 
• Laugh In this day that the divine spirit has blessed you with  
• Love  Unconditionally