If I am no longer the person you need most, do I still get to be loved the same?

Izia sterling

I Was Her Campfire

I was the only child.

I remember moving house to house as she was trying to get her life in order. A sense of growing together — she was growing into single motherhood and I was growing into life. How to survive, as I was just born into it.

My favorite times were when there was a bed big enough to fit four people but only occupied by two.

Coming home from whatever endeavors she experienced throughout the day, I was the one she would see last. I would be the one to lay down, pitch black dark, when she came onto the bed. Her voice as she would tell me the details of her day. Laying down looking up into the ceiling that represented a sky. We would look into the abyss.

My first experience was waking up to her voice. I was also the only one to go to sleep with it.

I never knew it was the norm to grow up with a father. My mom signified her authority so much it took the weight of the title to bear both. She provided like a man. She had her own life as a man. She told stories to keep me amused. She was as strong as one.

But I never sensed her as the composed one. Rather, expressive. I could only tell if a day was eventful if she cried at night to me.

*Everything will be alright. It's me and you against everyone.*

She was so well aided before she decided to move out. Family all in one household. If she were to continue pursuing life she was met with no worries, because she had a supporting base to come back to. That base diminished as soon as she left the one that raised her.

She wanted her own base. To her own likings. Not traditional — hers.

She left with no goodbye. She took me and ran.

The first night was so empty and cold. We slept on a floor with cushion that felt like clouds.

*It will all be okay, son. It will all be okay.*

So strong. A teen. She didn't know what the future may have had in store, but she didn't let that stagnate her in fear. She took the only asset she could devote her life to and left.

There was no movie, no TV, no stimulant to suppress her emotions or the voice of fear we spent many nights enduring. Together.

I would often wake in the middle of the night to a voice that was talking to itself. My mom wasn't on the bed anymore. She was on the hardwood with her knees glued to it and her hands formed together to what looked like a call for help.

But to who? How can you ask for so much to the air. Nothing. A wall. A ceiling. How can you ask it to remove the weight off your shoulders that feels like boulders.

My mom is crazy but yet resilient. I can call her that, because of the many times I heard a voice that only talked to itself and never got a conversation in return.

As I sensed her movement back to the bed, I would pretend as though I never awakened. I would simply be the last thing she would hold, and hold so dearest, as a soothing sensation to help her fall asleep.

I took pride in being that person. I only felt resourceful when I was the one who could curl up into a ball and give my body up in full devotion. It was my destiny, I felt, to be that house that signified familiarity, peace and warmth in a season of forest filled with snow.

I was her campfire.

Then a person came into the picture and removed my hands and told me to grow up. Every time I tried to reach back for comfort while I sucked my thumb, he would remove my hand. He replaced my hand with his. He teased me at night.

A bed that was once occupied by two was now filled with three.

Before this, I was the child in the middle. The one my mother would attend to the most. I was kicked to the side and positioned on the corner of the bed, where shadows were now the one that illuminated. My mom was in the middle. Both faces attended to her, left side and right side, but both parties were never a collaboration. Merely two selfish humans. Pesticides. Leeches. Trying to suck the host of its love.

I wanted my mom to defend me with the same passion she did all these years.

This was the first day I saw my mother, the youthful explorer, become a complacent housewife. It was also the last day I would be the receiver of my mother's cries at night. She found a replacement for doing that job.

I just wanted my mother's love, but I was banished into the darkness. Fed to the wolves of silence.

Who would I talk to at night if my mom is occupied. Who would I hug if I cannot touch my very own maker without being teased for being too old.

I was merely touching adolescence. A time that needed the utmost undivided attention and support, and I went through it alone. When I needed my mother most she was distracted. I was thrown into a dark puzzle with no light to direct me, and I would have to figure out how to get that love back on my own.

As it could no longer be my mother's.

---

I never understood older people when they told me: never chase relationships. You're young. You have all the time in the world. If I were your age again, I wouldn't be worried about relationships.

Huh? You're telling me you wanted relationships too. You didn't want to feel lonely either. So why are you telling me not to chase the exact thing you once wanted?

I think I finally had to lose someone to understand what they meant.

--- I.

I'd met her at an earlier time of my life. I found her attractive. Nothing too serious. I had this stereotype of pretty women: they're boring, they're not fond conversationalists, the personality stops at the beauty. Once you get familiar with the face, there's nothing else to discover.

At the time, those words were my reality. They formulated my thesis. Nobody could change said words or tell me different. A personal philosophy I'd developed over years of experience talking to multiple women.

It wasn't even about her at first. I had just started editing, gym content, and she asked for an editor on her social media page. How convenient: the thing I wanted to become, I could get paid for early, without having to reach out to big creators. Looking back, I never stood a chance at landing those anyway. I had no experience, no portfolio to send out. So how convenient that her story popped up.

I answered our first call having not really talked to a person in months. I worked overnight security. She had dropped out of college to pursue entrepreneurship. That first phone call wasn't an awkward get-to-know-each-other session. It was more like two egotistical people who finally get to talk about their projects and passions without sounding crazy, without sounding like they're bragging.

I'd noticed, when I took this route, I had difficulty keeping a woman. I could attract them, get them at first, but I was never able to keep them. The moment I brought them into this world, none of them survived. It was too "real." Too serious. "Unpleasurable." Boring.

The first voice that spoke interest in my world sparked curiosity. It also felt like destiny.

---

## II.

The client thing became a place to stay and to never confess.

Her conversation starters: can you help me with content. I have a question on this video. Is this video good enough? Which sound do you want? Those conversations only lasted thirty seconds. I mean, she could've texted these questions.

And I established, after she texted me once and didn't get a response soon enough, that she should call me. So it never happens again.

Then I started noticing I didn't have anything to ask her about work, and those questions that made her call me slowed down. But I still craved the conversations. How can I talk to a person I labeled as a client if I don't have work-related conversations to talk about? How do I lead now, if the plot behind calling you is outside of business?

The moment we started shying away from business conversations, it became trying to get to know each other. But still, it was another plot behind the conversations. We called because something happened. Then thirty minutes later we're talking about what's your favorite color, into what happened in your last relationship, and why you're not in one now.

Looking back at them now, those were filler words full of safety. I was genuinely curious about knowing her, but this is how my demographic starts conversations. I only asked these basic questions as a way to get into a deeper conversation. It always has to start subtle. Then it funnels.

I ran little set-up missions to test if she found me interesting. Text me when you wake up. Tell me about your day during it. I suggested we should cook together at her house: I'll bring the ingredients, you just be there.

We never did it.

---

## III.

Then came a Saturday.

I worked overnights, but I got called for a morning shift, so after work I decided to go to the gym and sleep at a time when normal humans go to sleep. I got to the gym at 4. I never do that. It's either work to gym to home, or home for a nap then gym. I'd never done this before. I just suddenly went against a schedule I designed from the day I got the job and never abandoned. But this day was different, and I can't explain how convenient it was.

I remember seeing a blue two-piece, regular gym attire. But the hair looked familiar. The girl I was talking to on FaceTime. It struck me, but I took nothing of it until I walked toward the bathroom to change, and the body, the skin, the glasses started uncovering somebody I'd seen before but never in person.

It was her.

I was so confused. She always said she went to a gym, but we never discussed the location. As I saw the face, I took a quick glance before she could fully interact with me. I sent out a signal. She turned around, saw my face for a split second, but she was too far to come talk to me, and I was inside the bathroom before she got the chance.

I remember taking off my stuff in the bathroom thinking: this has to be a sign. Out of all gyms, she could literally be anywhere in New York, but she's here. Same location. Exact time. Exact place. Exact floor.

The truth was, I wanted her to think about me the whole time I was in the bathroom. I delayed going out so she could think about me longer, and so I could think about what I should say. In fact, I wasn't in the talking mood. But I had to talk to her.

I finally built the courage to step outside and say something that would spark a conversation. As I walked out, I locked eyes on her, thinking about what I would say. I was met with a room-warming smile and a bubbly mood. She asked me, with genuine curiosity:

"What are you doing here? I never knew you went to this gym."

The exact words out of my mouth. I was going to say that.

"I was gonna ask you the same."

"You come to the gym and don't check in? This is literally my gym."

As the conversation grew, I was met with a couple of people I'd made a relationship with at the gym a couple months back. They saw me, and I could sense they were surprised I was here.

"Izia, wanna work out, man?"

I said I'll come later. They said okay, we'll be upstairs.

She said: "No, go. We'll talk later. I have to teach my cousin how to swim. So we'll talk when we're done."

---

## IV.

We said we'd talk to each other next time we met at the gym. Okay, we'll see each other tomorrow. I remember being impatient. Are you still coming, right? Yes. Okay, see you then.

The day and time came. She waved at me as I waited for her to talk to me.

She never did. She went with her friends, the ones she always went with, and started her workout.

I never had the luxury of a gym partner. I was always alone. Everyone I could talk to was either too little of me, or I thought they couldn't match the intensity I push myself to. I never reached out to anyone. I was alone physically, but I had a good relationship with the mind that talks to me. As long as I had that, I thought I could conquer the world.

What did I do about the wave? Nothing. I had a plan. The gym wasn't the time and place to disclose my desires.

---

## V.

Before she left, I stopped her at the time she usually took the bus home. At that hour the buses weren't coming every five minutes. More like twenty-minute intervals. I followed her downstairs to begin my pursuit. I asked what time her bus came.

She said fifteen.

I thought to myself: that's all I needed. Real-life time to answer my desires. If this is what I really wanted: express my desires subtly, never confronting, never obvious, with a sense of teasing. I didn't know if she ever caught on. It didn't matter. What mattered was the type of relationship I was establishing. Not just a gym partner. Not a person who did edits. A person who is secretly trying to enter your world with my questions, so I could become undeniably irresistible. My questions and conversations were merely surface level, but something way more: I wanted to get inside your mind. What do you like that you don't tell anyone? Your fears. How you walk. How you operate in a public setting that is out of your control. How you react to situations. The utmost subtle things that go unnoticed.

I would sit down and study, in my bed, the exact words she would say, and give her what she needs by forming into it.

But standing there, it was awkward. The social cues I began to closely look at exposed what I thought it was. I wanted to be this person, but I was too emotionally attached to what she thinks. I would look at her face for validation to my words, to the questions I asked her. I began to over-analyze her vulnerability so I could become an opportunist in it, instead of being in the moment.

Our conversations weren't perfect, but they endured. Every time, we would find the same ground into something meaningful. And the bus would arrive. I was left unsatisfied. How can everything we build go away the very moment something arrives and separates us? I hated it. We'd go on to have normal conversations on the phone later that night, but I was still craving more. I just needed one more session where we met the threshold of a flow state. Conversations never being dull, equal ground, and the road endless with possibilities.

I expressed to her: I don't like leaving you so soon.

She said: me too. We should go somewhere.

---

## VI.

The next day, before we left our separate ways, I asked her where she lived. She said a place so familiar it was astonishing how I never stumbled across her at an earlier date. How long's the bus? Fifteen minutes. We had conversations that went until the bus came. We both saw its arrival. A last hug before her departure.

I let go of her. She walked to the bus slowly. Slower than usual. A sense of slowness, of resisting the temptation of going home early. I sensed she wanted more.

"Wait."

She looked back. "Yes?"

"Come here."

"But the bu—"

"Come here."

Let's do something fun, I said. What? Let's go here. Just follow me.

The plan was plotted the night before. The same night I told her I don't like her leaving too soon. What did I do? I can't just take her somewhere and not have a plan. I mean, I could. But that's not how I articulate my interest. Everything, I have to be familiar with and in control of. I was the light in the dark tunnel. All you had to do was follow me into darkness and trust that my light would guide us.

I was guessing she wasn't too familiar with how to get home if it wasn't by bus. I knew my way around here. I lived relatively close, knew the in and outs of the area. And this was fun for me: scooter rides in a quiet, peaceful area filled with lights and ambient vibrance.

I told her we were going to ride scooters home. I loved riding scooters home. I was in control of where I wanted to go, without ever waiting for something to arrive, without depending on how I got to my destination.

Let's ride.

She hesitated. "I don't ride scooters anymore. I got into an accident."

The plan I had of how it would go suddenly crumbled the second she expressed her trauma.

I asked her one simple question. Did she trust me?

I knew she couldn't say no. I used that as a bypass to whatever excuse she had. Whatever plan I had in my mind, it had to be executed, no matter what. That "no" was the first wall I immediately put down. There was no way she would mess up my whole designated plan because of fear.

Do you not trust me? Do you not want this to be the best moment of your life?

She hesitated to ride a scooter herself. So I offered her the back of mine.

---

## VII.

She told me her address. Instead of going there directly, I made up a route that would take longer, just so we could delay the time she had to be away from me.

We were riding for about five minutes until she spotted her friends, the ones she went to the gym with. She told me to stop. I complied. I didn't want to. They were taking away time from me and her. But I found this to be another opportunity: to see how she talks and operates around the people she's most comfortable with.

I wasn't on my phone. I'm never on my phone, even in full moments where I could easily fill the time. But then again, I could miss out on developing my hypothesis. I wasn't engaging. I acted as if I were wandering off, but that was a disguise to let them have a normal conversation while I was still present.

The girls talked. And then I heard a name.

A girl named Sarah said something familiar. A familiar name. Adrian. She expressed his name in such resentment disguised as admiration. This boy: tall, goes to the gym, handsome. The conversation went so smoothly I grew suspicious. How could these girls talk about a boy like that? I knew something was going on, but I couldn't act upon it. I stood quiet. My actions were louder than words.

Sarah asked for my name. I said Zay. My real name is Izia, but I've grown accustomed to people calling me a name I grew an identity to, so I never bothered to break that cycle. She replied: nice to meet you. She hugged her friends. We left.

We grew silent until we almost crashed. Well, crash is an overstatement. I swerved quickly and began to complain playfully. That's what sparked the conversation back. From there, only thing I remember was vibes. She recorded the experience, and I was the one loving it. We crossed multiple roads just talking and teasing. I was acting like some NASCAR racer on the scooter.

There was a black car following us. I never took note of it. I was having too much fun.

It wasn't until we stopped at a stop sign that the car slowly caught up.

"Adrian?"

She got off the scooter and went up to the car. I saw two figures inside, but I couldn't put a face to the name. I came a little closer to identify, not interact. Oh. That's Adrian. I let her talk to him. To me it just looked like another person she'd seen on the road, so I let her have her time, and I wandered off, but not too far, where I couldn't protect her. I genuinely felt no need to observe the conversation. It felt like a person you haven't seen in a long time, casually catching up.

The conversation lasted about a minute. She came back. Said nothing. We continued our conversation, until she pulled out her phone and called someone.

"Just who I just seen."

"Who?"

"Adrian. With his mom."

I thought it was his car. But his mom is driving? I was confused.

I drove her home. After that interaction I grew silent the whole ride. I was in my head now. Why is she talking about him? Why is he so important that you had to call someone to document that you spotted him while you're with me? So many questions appeared. They started rotting me from the inside. Questions I couldn't ask, because it would be out of my place to ask. We're not in a relationship, and I'm still playing this mysterious act. The slow game.

She asked if I'm okay. What's wrong?

I replied: nothing.

The questions I wasn't in position to ask her, I let them burn me alive. No room for oxygen. No room for leaving. No room for expressing. I couldn't express my love or my curiosity.

I'm too "nonchalant."

---

## VIII.

The questions crept up on me in the middle of the night.

She doesn't like me. A girl that likes me wouldn't call her friend to talk about another person while she's with the person she likes. Conclusions started appearing in my head. This guy Sarah and Rihanna were talking about is the same person we just saw. Why are they so curious about him? She doesn't like me. I'm just her pet to drop her home. Was it a test, to see if I would move? I was livid inside, but I couldn't say anything, because I'm playing the slow game. Seeing where things go before I fully commit to my desires.

The more situations questioned my character, the harder it got to play that game. What am I really doing this for? Am I a coward for not confessing my compassion the first time I saw her?

Do I want to be protected by rejection?

If I come off too early, I would be rejected. I couldn't afford that. I needed her just a little longer. She was too perfect to exit out of my life.

I told myself I wouldn't call out to her. She has to call me. She doesn't like me. Why should I keep trying? It was all making sense: from the time she didn't tell me she was going to the gym, to the subtle movements in her body language. If my spell of words was working the way I wanted, I wanted her fully submissive to me. If I can't get a girl like that, I'm not doing the most, and all the tactics, for a girl who wouldn't fall for it. I'm not calling her again.

I set my alarm for 6am, work in the morning, then I put my phone down, laid down, shut my eyes.

Then my phone rang. It was 10pm.

My heart got a sense of a rush when I heard the first ring. She's actually calling me? Or is it my mom telling me to wash the dishes? It was 10pm, and I'd seen how many plates were on that dinner table. I turned the phone and saw the first letter.

R.

All the thoughts and promises to myself contradicted themselves the moment I saw her call. I was so tough. Physically nothing could get past me, and nothing should. But the moment she called, I dropped all my accusations, all the conversations I'd run inside my head. I'm full of hypocrisy, and I am not the man I thought I was. The one who acted with standards, firm on his words. Was it a costume? Was it all an act? Because I just got tested, and if I answer, all the things I told myself would immediately be contradicted.

I answered.

She never acted a different way. I couldn't sense guilt, or someone trying not to address something. I was met with a person completely oblivious to the situation, to my assumed emotions.

And it all just went back to normal. I'm usually down by 10 and asleep by 11.

But the bedtime I constructed got delayed, because I finally had someone, something meaningful, worth occupying that spot. Before the schedule, I was up until 4am scrolling, gaming, doing things that never evolved me. Things that only kept me at the place I hated: a lazy, unproductive man who gets nothing done. I was trying to turn my life around, so over a few months I constructed a schedule, and part of it was sleeping earlier than usual.

The hours that held the worst of me were now what felt meaningful. Building. A relationship I saw worth sacrificing my time for.

It all just faded.

---

## IX.

I tried my hardest to escape it, but my curiosity was itching to find out every last bit of this person that I saw the exact resemblance of me in. There was this voice that told me to stop talking after a dull moment so I could get rest, but the dull moments were never longer than five seconds. One question would spiral into twelve different ones. I couldn't escape it. I was too intrigued. How can a person this young be so intellectual and cunning? I've talked to girls in this generation. I bear it. The attraction picks up the slack of their personality. But this one had all the roots.

Our conversations were like the water to reveal ourselves. I had a seed that was planted since birth: a nerd, intellectual, charismatic. I never got to see this side of myself in action before meeting her. It was as if I was accelerating into becoming the man I always wanted to be. The one that's confident. The one that can say almost anything and the words come out smoothly, never measuring for judgment. I could finally be myself to the other gender. I didn't have to act a certain way for approval. The more I acted myself, the more dopaminic reward I found.

It's so strange. It feels like sabotage. Too good to be true. This is too perfect. I'm anticipating something bad happening. Soon, eventually, inevitably, it has to. All my relationships started off like this. No way it would last. I'm too happy.

It's a strange period where nothing has happened yet, and everything suddenly matters. Their childhood story. Finding out what music they like. Silence on the phone feels like intimacy, and we are fully confident in that theory.

It's 3am. "Are you tired?"

"No."

Both lies.

One person is underneath their blanket with the brightness turned all the way down, because they're supposed to be asleep. The other is walking back and forth from the kitchen, phone pressed against their ear, trying to find another question, because they can feel the conversation reaching a natural ending, and they don't want the night to end yet. A person is found in the most awkward position in bed, feet up against the wall. The phone is always at the ear. The house hears all your conversations. Bathroom, living room, all the way to the bed. No care in the world. You two are in your own reality.

"How many kids do you want?"

"You want a boy or a girl first?"

"I want a boy first, then a girl. So the boy can protect her."

Imagination that seemed so real, as if you're bringing the same person you fell in love with into a future that is not set yet. It hasn't even been built. Those became stories. Stories became confessions. Confessions became inside jokes. Then you could see the sun making its mark, turning the sky from dark purple to blue.

Each night gave me closer access. One I was willing to give, and one I was craving to receive.

---

## X.

I gave up a schedule that I followed, and I didn't even know.

It felt so right. The authority of "I can fit you in my schedule" was the same factor that led me to slowly putting her at the forefront. I used to go to sleep early, but every night slowly turned into therapeutic sessions where we let out all our confessions, our plans, the people we wanted to be in the future. I didn't see it at first. I would wake up later than usual. The strict schedule that got me the most progress was substituted for pleasure. It felt so natural, because I was finally investing my time and energy into a person I deemed worthy. Because she was me in a different body. Same mindset. Same goals. Same ambitions. So it never felt like a drag.

We even went to the same gym, so we could never be too far apart. We factored time a lot. If I was going to see you and spend time with you, why can't we kill two birds with one stone? Quality time, while working on ourselves, for the betterment of our future.

One time we left the gym and she said she was hungry. What do you want to eat? "Idk." Chipotle? Okay, let's go. However we got there was another time for each other. The trip, the conversations on the way to eat something we could easily consume by going home, ordering, or even cooking. I usually make food when I come from the gym.

She pulled out her card to pay. I moved it out of the way with mine and paid.

We sat down. The conversation wasn't flowing as much. I think I'm bettering myself by telling myself we didn't interact as much because we were eating. Maybe that's making myself feel better about missing a conversation flow. Expectations, as usual. Never letting the moment flow. The silence. The munching of the mouth when you put too much sauce on your bowl.

Until she got a call. I couldn't identify who it was, but I remember the conversation.

"I'm with my friend."

"Where you at?"

"Are you gonna pick me up?"

"I thought you said you weren't cooking. I brought food."

How did that make me feel? I didn't know who it was. It could've been her mom. But why is the conversation not like how me and my mom talk? It could be another person. But I know when I like someone, I wouldn't even pick up the phone if I was with someone else. Why is she so comfortable talking to someone else, when our conversation while eating wasn't met with the same enthusiasm and playful chatter as ours?

Now I'm starting to question my role. Did she answer because she genuinely thinks I'm a friend? Or is it genuinely her mother?

---

## XI.

I've never asked a person I liked if they wanted to be my girlfriend. Deliberately. It just kind of formed and happened. We were doing things you would do if you were in a relationship, and I thought that was just fine. No title. No entitlement just because of a title.

I felt safe, but left questioning my spot. Because if I did something, she couldn't question me. And vice versa. But what if I wanted her to? What if I wanted someone to care? I was possibly talking to someone, and she'll come address it. I felt safe because I knew she couldn't ask me to do things a boyfriend would usually do. But I was also never satisfied with it. Content, because I was comfortable, as long as we could still do relationship things without the sense of a title.

We always said we were gonna let things flow and not move too fast.

That's how the sabotage has always started, though.

---

## XII.

I grew upset. After I knew she went to the gym, she didn't tell me what time she was going so we could go at the same time. I began seeing her more, but I remember our conversations. I would express how I didn't like it.

What was I actually asking for?

Give me an invitation to your presence.

---

## XIII.

Then we got into an argument. Not a big one. But the thing I did was, I ultimately convinced myself I would never talk to her again, because of the situation that happened. It really did something to my ego and pride. I stopped talking to her. She reached out a hand to start over. Her, apologizing. I didn't take it. I was fully convinced.

Then I went home, thinking about her. Then it settled in. What am I gonna do? I can't sleep. I usually sleep with her on the phone. That was the first cycle break after the whole duration of the relationship. Someone you built a routine with, and around, is suddenly not there. And it all happened so quickly. How can you act like nothing happened?

I was up all night thinking. The access disappeared. The same energy I had for her had nowhere else to go but back to myself.

It didn't take me more than twelve hours to get back to myself. One inspiring video, and my mindset changed. One video that got my brain back into thinking, innovation, and the life that was getting stolen from me. AI. Automation. I remember watching videos and learning things advertised as valuable skills for the next five years, and I took it. I went down that rabbit hole for the first time. But we have to take into consideration how those videos popped up: I had curated a For You page on YouTube just for education and business. Me and Rihanna watched videos like that. I didn't have to search for it. It came to me. I already built my algorithm.

That was the same week, or somewhere around that week, I got my computer.

When Rihanna was in my life, a lot of energy was going toward her. Dates. Trying to fit her extensive phone calls. Good-morning texts. Always thinking about her. Large amounts of mental energy directed outward: the relationship, her behavior, what things meant, how to respond, whether to withdraw, whether she valued this, or me.

All of that disappeared in the three days of silence. I started configuring the MacBook around what I wanted to build. Filming the late-night running videos. Experimenting. Thinking. Creating. Discovering things about myself. I still thought about her, but watching those videos felt like a life I hadn't fully discovered yet. I was genuinely getting the same dopamine: discovering, learning, and the progressional thrill of implementing what I learned into real life.

And that's when I noticed something I couldn't unsee. It had emotional control over me. If she texted late, I'd be emotional, and it would transfer into my gym sessions, my relationships with friends. Genuine happiness, taken from you, because you built a happiness to be received by one channel only. You don't seek happiness anywhere else, because you were content getting it only from them.

You can build that dependency without noticing it. You spend more time together. Stop doing certain things alone. Stop seeing people as much. Stop creating your own experiences. And increasingly associate peace, excitement, validation, intimacy, fun, even motivation with one person. Then, because you believe "I'm going to be with them forever anyway," the concentration doesn't feel dangerous.

It feels efficient.

That's the sabotage in a nutshell. Because if that person leaves, becomes distant, changes, gets busy, or simply cannot meet every emotional need anymore, you don't just lose the relationship. You temporarily lose access to entire emotional states you trained yourself to experience through them.

I wasn't saying Rihanna was a distraction. It was deeper than that. When I was with her, my emotions were more intimate, predictable, regulated. I was receiving what I felt: connection, stimulation, affection. All those human emotions.

But that night, I'd never felt more lonely. I was filled with questions disguised as chaos. What must I do? What is she doing right now? Does she even care about this? Why is she not trying hard to save this? The chaos increased as I created more questions that were impossible to answer.

And then I felt the hurt slowly converting me back to my old self. The one before I met her. Hungry. Obsessed. Experimenting without trying to look good. Failing, because I finally can, without thinking how the girl I was trying to court would think of it. I started creating more. It put me into another loop. What I could call my self-discovery era.

And the non-human part of me began questioning: why am I getting motivated by her absence?

It's a weird feeling. I love her. I like how comfortable I can become. But shame shatters that reality. It tells me I could never enjoy a relationship, never feel and express love, without completing my life's pursuit first. Become successful. How selfish of you. I wanna love. I was willing to give myself up, be the most comfortable, for someone I love. Why are you hurting me? I wanna be loved. I wanna experience a relationship. Why do I still feel guilt?

I couldn't take the girl I love anywhere I wanted, at any time, with the financial stability of doing so. I was a broke 19-year-old. I could maintain, but I couldn't maintain and thrive carrying two people. It wasn't that I couldn't. And I'm not saying she wasn't able to build with me. But my ego wouldn't let me do that. I want to be fully in control of all the things I care about. Money was my first step in this lifelong pursuit that everyone advertises. That it changes your life. I wanted to experience that. But I was so far. I needed my time back. To discover. To formulate a plan. To have enough time to execute, without the emotional weight of carrying someone else.

Sacrifice, they say. I would sacrifice love for a materialistic thing that will always be obtainable. But love? True love? The love you get when you were nothing. The security of never having to ask yourself whether the person you're dating is there because of your success, or because she genuinely likes you?

I had a person who had something money cannot reproduce. Another person choosing me. Wanting to hear my voice. Spending ordinary hours with me. Creating memories that had absolutely no economic value.

But my greed for material made me visualize another life. One that exposed me to the cost of love. A date wasn't just a date. I could see the money leaving my account. Money I could've saved. The food I could have made at home. The work I could have finished. The ideas I might have discovered sitting alone. I was with her the whole time, but I was getting haunted by one sentence:

WHAT IS THIS COSTING ME.

You think that's how I wanted to experience love? Because love asks you something. And that is to waste time beautifully.

But my ambition whispered something every time I was out with her. It said: I wasn't productive today. I spent two hours doing something when I could've been doing something more productive. That's not human. That's being a robot. A robot has no emotions and only sees things from the most logical perspective. And the steps I had to take to get this far required: fuck my feelings. Be a robot. Go on this nonchalant tour until I'm satisfied with how successful I become.

I looked at two possible futures, and came to the sense that becoming the person I imagined mattered enough to risk losing the person standing in front of me.

---

## XIV.

### I thought she lied to me. But I lied to myself so I could leave her. Selfish.

I was already thinking about the psychological consequences I'd endured by staying with the person I loved. At first, none of it looked dangerous. I loved her, so naturally, I started accommodating her. But I noticed the accommodation slowly became organization. I had organized my eventful days of finding myself, of bettering myself, and I slowly turned them into a season of love. It was only justified because my beliefs became contradictory the moment I met her.

I had seen what happened to my time, my attention, my routine, my ability to completely disappear into myself. Then, when she was gone, I experienced the opposite. For the first time, I could compare who I was with her to who I became without her.

And when she reached out to start over, her, apologizing, I left it there. I was so heated for those hours, there was no sympathy trigger, no sense of emotion in my mind to act upon. I was filled with resentful thoughts, and decisions that questioned my pride and the things I said I stood for. I caught myself thinking: us even getting into this conversation will make us get back together, so I don't wanna do it. If I send this message, everything goes back to regular program.

It felt like an ultimatum: her, or me. I did the math I'm ashamed of. Letting her back in meant regular program. No her could mean one hundred percent self-discovery. Everything I'd been giving away, coming back to me. And I wanted this. I finally had the MacBook I'd been saving for, to start this journey. I was contemplating between getting the person I loved back, or evolving into the person I always wanted to be.

Love, or destiny.

And somewhere inside that comparison, a much more uncomfortable question appeared: what if I didn't leave simply because she hurt me? What if being hurt just gave me permission to do something a part of me already wanted to do?

The night the argument happened, I told myself I would never talk to her again because of what I thought she did. The word "thought" is caused by uncertainty. I didn't know she for sure did it, or if I was getting manipulated into thinking. I was too confident in my bold statement. That "I thought I seen something" turned into "I could forgive her for what she did," because I never confirmed what she actually did. Which left room for uncertainty.

It was a couple of days in my room telling myself: I finally got my time back. This is perfect. I got the chance to never go back to her.

I ended something for my own selfish pleasure. I chose my goals over her. A person that was supposed to be a future part of the person I was supposed to become. The littlest convenient thing happened, and I ended it right there. At the time, I thought it was because she made me feel stupid, because she did something I could never forgive.

Nope.

I ended it because of something else. And I never saw the underlying factor that led up to my actions. I just justified it by saying she did me wrong.

---

---

## XV.

Till the time I am writing this, it still haunts me. My ambition has debt attached to it.

Will I forever be lonely? I'm choosing a pursuit I will never win. I will never feel successful, even when to others I am. I could obtain meaningful money and never be satisfied, because obtaining more means staying focused, limiting distractions, forgetting short-term emotions and pleasure for a desirable outcome. You think I chose to be this?

I fear I will never be satisfied. And therefore never have the ability to be human. To love. To give myself up for another person.

The thing that fears me most in this journey: that I sacrificed love for the pursuit, and I don't actually pursue. Imagine giving up the love of your life, your soulmate, because you told yourself you need to build yourself up first. The thing that's been haunting me, and probably keeping me going till this day, is the fear that I sacrificed it for nothing. That I left her for my ambition, and my ambition never materialized. Now I'm left in the same position, without the love of my life.

Nightmares to have. You tell this person you have to leave them because you are not where you want to be in life. Then you look back in two, three years, and you're in the same position. She's moved on. Forgotten about you. Another boyfriend. And you lost that, because you said you had a dream.

---

I never understood older people when they told me: never chase relationships. You're young. You have all the time in the world.

I think I finally understand why they might have said it. And that understanding scares me, because I still don't know which loss is worse.

But the stubbornness in me still questions the elders. Were they saying this from a point of wisdom, or from a point of trauma, regret, and wishing they did things differently? Did your opinion formulate based on emotions, or on logical, studied reason? That always scares me: a person telling me something based on hurt and not a tested theory. And I would be so dumb to follow it without questioning the philosophy in the first place. Why? Because they're old? I can't live like that. Age is not the same thing as wisdom. Time only gives you experiences. Reflection determines whether those experiences became understanding.

I would still listen to an older person who is both logical and emotional. Someone who can remember the emotion without still being ruled by it, and analyze the decision without deleting the emotion from the story. But that's rare in itself.

I don't want advice from the person who merely survived their choice.

I want to hear from the person who has spent years honestly interrogating what their choice gave them, and what it permanently took away.

Lestat’s courtship of Louis is almost a masterclass in desire-based persuasion.How did lestat identify Louis insecurities and desire then provided a solution persuasion how can a person have so much leverage over another human being a golden handcuff so invisible that the victim doesn’t even know they’re in one Lestat never really sold Louis on vampirism.
He sold Louis a version of himself that vampirism appeared to make possible.

Here’s how he identified Louis insecurities and desires so he can have Louis all to himself 

Louis had a desire for power lestat was able to sense this and use it as leverage 

There was a scene in the movie that illustrated this so vividlyWhite businessmen tolerated rather than respected him Louis wanted to become a businessman but he was highly disregarded and even sometimes disrespected 

Lestat recognized this as Desire for power/status

What lestat eventually offered him ?

Power nobody could take from him

He also noticed Louis constantly changed himself depending on who he was around

Lestat seenIdentity fragmentation

Louis had a hidden agenda one he kept from the public 

He was gay he changed his tone around his family and acted a way that didn’t represented the person he actually was

His sexuality conflicted with religion/social expectations

He felt isolated

He was ambitious but constrained by the world around him

Lestat offered desirable solutions to all his underlying problems 

Freedom to exist without performing

Acceptance without apology

Escape from ordinary human obligations

A companion who claimed to truly see him

An existence beyond normal human limits

An entirely new life

Lestat was the solution to all Louis problem only predatory behavior could sense all the desires one can want 

Lestat intentionally examined all of his fears and got it down to the tea so we can formulate a offer that is so irresistible 

Data farming 

Want the person to buy you have to be them

Know what they really want were they can’t get anywhere else 

Know them more than they know themselves 

That’s extremely important in persuasion

People often tell you their conscious desire

Their behavior shows you the deeper one

Louis was sitting among powerful white businessmen who will let him participate, but still don’t truly treat him as an equal.

Lestat seen that and whispered to him 

“You don’t understand your own value”

It’s so predatory but powerful because he doesn’t position Louis as inferior.

He positions Louis as under-realized.

 a huge persuasion distinction.

Bad persuasion:

You’re weak. Buy this to become strong.

Better persuasion:

You’re stronger than the life you’re currently allowing yourself to live.

Now the product becomes an instrument of identity completion, rather than compensation for being defective.

Lestat doesn’t just talk about freedom.

He embodies it.

Wealth.

Confidence.

Sexual freedom.

Power.

Sophistication.

Fearlessness.

Disregard for social hierarchy.

Supernatural ability.

Louis is watching somebody live almost entirely outside the systems constraining him.

Lestat never had to persuade Louis 

He experiences him he sees what the life is like first hand all the byproduct that comes with the one solution that lestat offers “what would it feel like to be him?”

Lestat often teased Louis giving him multiple samples enough to want more but not enough where he gets the full materialization what would I be like if I’m given this thing

Lestat reveals abilities gradually.

Telepathy.

Influence.

Power.

Knowledge.

Pleasure.

Intimacy.

Lestat Allowed Louis to experience a fragment of the transformation before purchasing it.

But the most important thing lestat identifies

Was that he identified Louis’s deepest desire

It wasn’t immortality.

Not wasn’t blood.

Not even the supernatural strength.

It was:

To be seen without having to edit himself.

He also says “Those things you are ashamed of are part of what makes you extraordinary.”

Not Despite all these things, I’ll accept you.

Because acceptance says:

Your flaw doesn’t bother me.

Recognition is :

What you thought was a flaw was evidence of something larger.

That converts shame into identity.

Louis probably had six different psychological problems.

Lestat didn’t offer six solutions.

He creates the one solution that solves every problem

Become what I am.(vampirism)

Power → vampirism.
Freedom → vampirism.
Sexual liberation → vampirism.
Escape → vampirism.
Belonging → companionship with Lestat.
Recognition → Lestat sees him.
Mortality → immortality.

Master class persuasion 

This made me think that The strongest offer isn’t necessarily the one solving the biggest problem. It can be the one that appears to resolve the greatest number of existing tensions at once.

He also sold future identity and not the actual mechanism of vampirism he doesn’t say when you become a vampire You’ll get immortality, increased strength, telepathy, enhanced senses, regenerative abilities…”

Those are important byproducts but it’s not deep enough lestat aimed for emotion 

He said “You can finally become completely yourself.”

One of the key lines of the scene is Lestat urging Louis to be the beautiful things he already is. Louis later describes the encounter through the feeling of finally being seen.

He simply did the framework

Observe behavior
→ discover insecurity
→ identify suppressed desire
→ validate the hidden identity
→ demonstrate the desired world
→ deepen contrast with current reality
→ connect all desires to one mechanism
→ make the mechanism a bridge to identity
→ present the offer.

Read more

Being someone who knows the solution to all my failures. I also fear the solution may come with things I am not ready to face yet.

I had a friend that hated how he looked. He didn’t even have to tell me — I could sense the insecurity before he ever said a word. Everyone would take their shirt off and he was the only one who didn’t. In fact I’ve seen all my friends with their shirts off. I log back into my memory every time, trying to find an image of his shirt being off, and it’s so foggy. It never occurred — that’s why it didn’t pop up. He tells me his insecurity without saying it directly. When we talk about our love life, he feels awkward that he even has to take off a shirt during sex.

That left me to wonder: how can someone be so insecure, know how to combat that insecurity, and still not do it? We go to the gym. Gym is a part of my life, so just being my friend, it’s at least a percentage of his. He makes up excuses.

He doesn’t try to face conflict. He shuts it down with excuses. In fact, he’s already lost. It’s a painful sight to see — where your body wants to go and your mind convinces you: you are fine where you are. You are safe. You are at familiarity.

Eventually I stopped thinking about him. I started thinking about myself.

I fear those same voices I use to reassure myself are the same mechanism that has sabotaged any greater possibility before I even take action. I shut it down with excuses and listen to that voice, never questioning why I tell myself that in the first place.

How do you market to a person who makes excuses and sells themselves short? I used to think people who stayed stuck simply didn’t know what to do. Now I fear something worse. What if they know? What if the solution is sitting directly in front of them, but choosing it would force them to face things they aren’t ready to know about themselves yet?

You can research the answer. Save the video. Follow the person who has what you want. Know the product. Know exactly what it promises. And still close the page. Still say tomorrow.

I fear I’ve been looking at this at the utmost logical and surface level. I’ve been looking deeper, and I’ve come to a deeper observation. Because here’s what I see when I ask him to come work out:

Maybe when he sees my body — the amount I put in to get this physique — he subconsciously compares the time, the effort. He also hears: become consistent. Confront the very body I hate looking at in the mirror. Feel weak and little, starting out as a beginner picking up weights that are petty. Admit to myself and say the taboo words — I’m insecure. The ego that built you up, how would it react when you’re finally vulnerable? Change how I eat — starve myself from pleasure I’ve grown accustomed to since the day I was fed from my mom. Keep doing it for months even if I don’t see results. And risk all the time, and still not liking myself.

That’s what one invite costs him.

If someone already knows what they need — what are they buying every time they choose not to take it?

https://sterlngmind.gumroad.com/l/opbnla Undeniable VOL 1 “BOOK”

Tuesday in New York, 6am, before the sun rises. I ran my best Hyrox training — 10 miles while also hitting euphoria. That moment where your legs don’t seem to have liters of lactic acid buildup. That voice finally goes away, the one that’s been bitching at you to stop at mile 5. I don’t hear it or feel it anymore. The asphalt, me, and a Frank Ocean playlist that suddenly made me cry — all the bottled up emotions built for months finally let out and left within the asphalt.

I don’t know if it was the playlist or that voice in my head that told me to keep going. Keep pushing. It resembled my father. Growing up we would go out every day before he left for work so he could train me. It was the same voice. Normally I’d be arguing with myself about why I did this in the first place. “Nobody’s here doing this. Just leave, Izia. C’mon, you’re trying too hard.” The constant negotiation of the next mile.

Don’t run. Slow down. You’ve done enough.

But you keep going.

There was this group of runners that looked so cool. New Hyrox shoes and gear, almost looking as if they did this professionally. And they were a pair. I was jealous. Why don’t I have friends I can call to run anytime and they’ll be there?

I lost that privilege three years ago. Me and my friend didn’t even fall out — we grew apart. The friend you can call late at night about how someone else broke your heart and you’ll be up until the sun starts rising. The one I used to call early in the morning and he’ll pick up first two rings, before the DND feature came. We were chasing the same thing at that time — to be basketball players. Professional. I truly miss waking up the first day of summer and calling him at 5am just so we could go down the street and have a cinematic training session. We were on what felt like a mission that was greater than us. My sneakers almost fully breaking because I used my game-day shoes for outside park sessions too. We were so young we couldn’t afford the luxury of having both an indoor shoe and an outside shoe — before our parents tell themselves that their child is spoiled. No. They simply couldn’t afford it, and that’s what they told themselves to make them feel good about it.

The moment I saw the pair, it felt like a competition. I slowed down just so they could catch up and pass me. We were going downhill, and downhill gets you into a flow where it seems less impossible to reach your top speed on a random morning — so they took the challenge. My mind told me: let them waste energy. You’re gonna come in and hawk them down and eat them alive as they drown in exhaustion.

I listened. But as I made that decision to slow down, I suddenly couldn’t see them anymore. The fog made it so hard. I lost them — they were about three minutes ahead, so gone I didn’t think I’d be able to follow through.

Then a song came on that filled me up with memories. A summer song that felt so nostalgic but so right at the same time. Suddenly everything slowed down and I became tunnel vision. The fog that was once so blinding opened up so clearly I could see my prey. The fog never disappeared — it cleared room for the people I needed to see.

And a voice in my head sang a lyric, and I began to imagine that woman I would talk to late at night, all until the morning. In fact we would never hang up. These were the days I felt as if I could finally talk to a human being and be rewarded for the topics I wanted to introduce. I was never judged — in fact she pushed it. I needed those conversations to be able to find myself before writing. I never had an outlet to express myself. The fears, the goals, the ambition, my ego and insecurity — our conversations rewarded all of that, in a society that rewards you to be non-expressive. Nonchalant.

But I also remember, at the end, she left me. Was it because of all the things I said she didn’t think I could actually do? I couldn’t become that writer I always said I wanted to be. I couldn’t be that millionaire I always acted as if I was. All the studying and the sacrifices — did it mean nothing to her?

You left me. You bet against me with another man to take the place I held so dearly. Did you think he was better than me? I am made of iron, hard as a rock — nothing could ever be better than me. Not in the proximity I was in. Not in the environment you’re in. I will show you, physically, what type of person you left before everything came to fruition.

Then I heard a voice above me — why are you so behind these people? — and I was met with adrenaline that felt as though I was whipped. I never felt this type of feeling before, but I sensed I became faster, less prone to exhaustion. In fact it deleted my fear of what I might break, of what will happen. When the very thing that keeps you safe has unlocked that threshold, you can’t rely on something that is not enabled anymore.

PUSH. PUSH. WORK. WORK HARDER. I felt like a horse who kept getting whipped to go faster. And I did, but it hurt so bad. My legs. The intensity in my breathing — in fact I couldn’t hear it. You’re suffocating me, but you can’t hear it because the music is so loud. My body is screaming to stop but I keep going, because my mind doesn’t care about how I feel. It cares to beat the people in front of me. No matter how I feel, I have to catch them. You’re so close. Just catch them. Please. Then this could all be over.

I finally passed them.

Slow down, Izia. You did it. You passed them. Now slow down and get your energy back.

I didn’t stop.

Why didn’t you stop, Izia? I could possibly die if I push myself too hard past the buildup of the last 10 miles. This was the most scared I felt this week — not even the stress I endured the whole given week amounted to this. Why am I not listening to myself? Why can’t I stop? I cried. Still moving while I’m craving to end this torture. But I kept going.

I was lied to by my mind about this being a normal session. It wasn’t nearly surface level — it was faced with multiple components I would have to find as I go.

The last real conversation with my friend, he invited me to sit on his back porch. It was the first time I ever stepped foot in his house. The inside looked so normal and tightened, as if someone responsible was living there. Then he told me to come upstairs. The room was the polar opposite. It screamed depressing. Clothes all over. Bed not made. His gaming desk, and rolling papers burnt down to a little clip.

He explained to me how proud he was of me. The man that could do whatever he wants. The one that can actually get out of bed with a mission and have a sense of drive. He explained this as if he were jealous — I knew he wasn’t, but it was almost like everything that made me great was the same characteristics he lacked. The reason to get up when life gets hard. The screaming of parents to find a job, to be in a submissive state for a paycheck. His tone of voice changed. His demeanor too. All the years I never got an invite over — he was ashamed. His life looked so joyful outside, but on the inside he was fighting all these years, and I never knew. He told me it amplified the moment he graduated. The structure, the routine, the meaning to get out of bed — all of it vanished the very moment he graduated.

That day he gave me my lifelong answers. Why he never invited me while he invited other people. And I noticed the quality of people he did invite — I could sense it in their eyes, they were just as lost as him. That hurt me. Because it meant the person I thought I knew my whole life had changed. The jokes, the plot behind our relationship, might not be as close as I thought. The more we secretly grew apart.

I think about the upstairs room. I push myself to outrun the possibility of my room slowly resembling his.

The pair in the fog had the shoes and the gear. What I wanted was the 5am phone call that picks up before two rings. I wasn’t racing them. You cannot catch up to the past. You cannot go back and make someone believe in you. You cannot prove your future to the person who knew you before it existed.

I kept going. I don’t ever want these voices to have a possibility of being true, so I outrun it.

I fear that all this built-up resentment, all these memories, was the underlying amplifier that made me have the best day of my life when it came to training.

I’m one step closer, but yet so far.

I keep wondering how many things in life work like that. A goal. An opportunity. A person. Something I’m desperately trying to win over. At first I put in more effort. Then more. Then I start forcing what used to feel natural. Eventually I’m working so hard to make something happen that I don’t notice how far I’ve moved from the place where it could actually happen. Somewhere along the way, effort quietly becomes chasing. I don’t think that means sitting still and waiting for life to find me. I still have to get to the station. I still have to become ready for what I’m asking for. Some things aren’t caught by running faster. You do the work, get where you need to be, and let what’s already moving toward you finally have somewhere to meet you.

I thought I understood that. Then I had a day that tested whether I actually believed it.

I had an important appointment. If I missed it, everything I’d lined up would get delayed. I finally made my way there, late. The doctors had left at 2 when closing was at 4. Two hours before I stepped foot in the building. So I couldn’t get the forms my employer needed, which means another day of waking up early, another long commute, doing all of it again.

On the way, I’d had this desire to go for a run. I looked at Google Maps and thought, it would be nice to run in Manhattan, but I’m in the Bronx, I’m not going out of my way. But it happened. Suddenly I had the time I never planned for, and here I am running in Central Park, exactly how I’d imagined it. It was the most emotional run I’ve ever taken. I cried. Who cries on a simple efficiency run? But this was the place I was finally free.

When the run stopped I was completely sore. I picked up my stuff from a YMCA I’d walked into like I belonged there. I have a membership, but not in Manhattan. I went through the front desk hoping he wouldn’t ask for my card, as if I already knew he wouldn’t. In the sauna I met a psychologist, a writer, and a business owner. Of all eight billion people, the exact people I study to become, in the same room, at the same hour. If I’d woken up early and made my appointment, I never would have had those conversations.

Then the platform. The train came and I could see I wouldn’t get a seat, let alone stand comfortably. I let it go. Next one in four minutes. I was dying to sit down. I’d been running and walking seven hours straight, the only solution to my pain was a seat, and I gave that up on a train that was right there, for a train I knew nothing about. It came empty. Every seat up for grabs, exactly when I wanted it most.

I acted with faith and I was granted.

That was written after it happened.

Here’s what actually happened on that platform: I wasn’t even thinking about it. I just wanted a seat. I wasn’t waiting on a countdown, staring at the time until it arrived. I was completely thinking about something else.

If you believe in abundance, attraction, faith, intuition, you can’t simply reinterpret every outcome afterward so that your philosophy conveniently remains correct. Otherwise nothing could ever disprove it. What if the train didn’t come the way I had in mind? What would I say then? Just what my mind tells me to cope. Feeding yourself a delusion so your ego could be satisfied.

I’ve lately been discovering my words mean nothing if they weren’t tested in reality. That’s the only source I get my validation.

But even if reality hadn’t returned exactly what I expected, there was something happening to the person making the decision. I was testing whether my philosophy survives contact with reality. Even if the train didn’t come with the capacity I had in mind, I still won something. I argued with safety and was rewarded. That’s far more self-mastery than being controlled. You get in the habit of delayed gratification and long-term thinking, crucial qualities if you are a person of high agency.

The reward wasn’t the seat. The seat I deemed was luck in my eyes. The reward was the rep, the rep of reaping what I sow.

I think the subconscious is doing the invisible work of the conscious. The conscious just takes all the credit.

there are two things that can keep a person going in life. The people you look up to…and the people you don’t want to disappoint. Someone might say, “I don’t want to disappoint my parents. My friends. My kids.” I wish mine was that easy to admit. There’s another internal factor that I’m not proud of, but if I’m being truthful, it carries the same emotional trigger that subconsciously keeps me going. I don’t want to disappoint that person who left me. You didn’t think I was capable. You didn’t see my vision. You didn’t think I would actually become the person I kept talking about becoming. And I hate admitting how much control it has over me. How many mornings did I get up thinking I was doing this entirely for myself when somewhere underneath it was still, “I’LL SHOW YOU”? 

How much of my ambition belongs to me? how much of it is still arguing with someone who isn’t even in my life anymore? 

I think about the day I finally become everything I said I would become, and there’s this part of me that wants you to know. Not EVEN TO GET YOU BACK. 

 I want the ego-pleasing feeling of knowing I became better than whoever you fell in love with next. I want you to look at the person you left behind thinking they would never amount to anything and realize you were wrong. I Never Intended for Others to know . But it’s there. And what bothers me is wondering what happens when I actually get there. When I get the money. The life. The person I kept promising everyone I would become. Do I finally feel proud of myself…or do I immediately look over my shoulder to see if YOU NOTICED ? How much of my future am I building for myself, and how much of it is still trying to win an argument with my past?

It isn’t really a contradiction. It’s more like two stages of the same mechanism. Think about an archer. You absolutely need force to pull the bowstring backward.

No force = no shot.

there is a specific moment when continuing to hold the string becomes the exact thing preventing the arrow from reaching the target. With this observation we can infer, Effort creates potential. Release converts potential into movement. That may be one of the cleanest ways to understand detachment.

And psychologically, there are several reasons “detached” people get rewarded. Because When you desperately need an outcome, you become hyperaware of threats.

I think this where the funnel of sabotage begins,

Your judgment gets distorted And it also may look like this.

You might start interpreting every delay as failure

You become less socially attractive because people can feel when you need something from them.

You make impatient decisions.

You abandon good strategies too early.

You sacrifice long-term positioning for short-term comfort.

Detachment removes all of this, Here are some examples of a detached person.

First, One who doesn’t desperately need the relationship can behave more naturally. The creator who isn’t checking views every thirty seconds can create something more original.

The athlete who can train enough can stop consciously controlling every movement which enables them to a “flow”.

So what people sometimes call “the universe rewarding detachment” can at least partly be explained as: “Detachment produces behaviors that increase the probability of the thing you want”. Humans have noticed the pattern for thousands of years, which is why versions of it appear everywhere. Taoism calls attention to wu wei-. Action without excessive forcing. Buddhist may warn that attachment and craving create suffering. Stoicism separates what you control from what you don’t. Christian thought repeatedly emphasizes acting faithfully without controlling the harvest. Modern performance psychology talks about flow, automaticity, and avoiding choking under pressure. why isn’t this universally told from the beginning? Because most people would misunderstand it. Tell an undisciplined person, “detach from the outcome,” and they may hear: “I don’t have to work.” Tell someone with no direction, “let the universe handle it,” and they use spirituality to avoid responsibility. So people are first taught effort, because effort is easier to understand. Study harder. Work harder. Save more. These instructions are programmed to the average individual because it’s easier for them to work incredibly well when the problem is really insufficient action. This made me realize that’s your biggest problem may not be a cause of insufficient effort. But excessive psychological force. That’s why I think it’s much deeper than the universe just rewarding one who is practicing detachment but instead : “Attachment gives you direction”. Then.. “Action earns the possibility.

Detachment allows possibility to unfold. Or even more compactly: Desire → Action → Release → Receive → Repeat. people are getting trapped in one side. Some people only desire and go off to call it manifestation. people could only use force and then eventually burn themselves Out. I truly believe you have to be willing to behave as though the outcome depends entirely on you, while emotionally accepting that the outcome does not belong entirely to you.

IM BEGINNING TO THINK THAT THIS WHOLE GAME OF LIFE IS A CONTRADICTION

More on Laws That are the vehicle of our thoughts & actions (BOOK LINK)

https://sterlngmind.gumroad.com/l/opbnla

^{I think one of the biggest misconceptions is believing that because a thought came from your own mind, it must have your best interests at heart. The strangest realization I’ve had is that my own brain can become the most convincing liar I’ve ever met. Every time temptation presents itself, I always have two choices. Logically, I already know what’s right. Yet somehow my mind still manages to argue against what I already know. It never begins with force. It begins with persuasion. It starts painting pictures. It reminds me how good it’ll feel. It tells me I deserve it. It tells me this one time won’t matter. It tells me I’ll stop tomorrow. It slowly says everything I want to hear until I eventually believe the very thing I knew was a lie only moments before.}

^{If another person manipulated me this way, I’d probably recognize it immediately. I’d question their intentions. I’d stop trusting them. I’d call them manipulative. Yet when those same words come from inside my own mind, I rarely stop to question them. I accept them simply because they sound like me. That’s the part that fascinates me. The same mind I rely on to understand reality can also become the thing distorting it.}

^{Sometimes it genuinely feels like I’m two people living inside one body. One quietly observing everything that’s happening. The other constantly negotiating with my future for the comfort of the present. One cares about who I’m becoming. The other only cares about how I feel right now. For the longest time, I wondered how both of those voices could belong to me. If my brain is producing these thoughts, then who am I? Am I the voice creating the temptation, or am I the awareness watching it happen? Maybe that’s the wrong question. Maybe being human has never been about having one voice. Maybe it’s about learning which voice deserves to be followed.}

^{Every desire isn’t a command. Every thought isn’t a belief. Every feeling isn’t the truth. Some thoughts are simply your mind searching for the fastest escape from discomfort. It doesn’t care who you become tomorrow. It only cares about changing how you feel today. That’s why temptation is so convincing. It doesn’t lie by creating something completely false. It lies by showing you only one side of reality. It makes you imagine the pleasure while hiding the regret. It magnifies the reward while shrinking the consequence. It whispers exactly what you want to hear because that’s what makes manipulation so effective.}

^{Looking back, I don’t think my mind was trying to destroy me. It was trying to protect me from discomfort using the quickest solution it knew. The problem is that what’s easiest for the present version of me is rarely what’s best for the future version of me. Maybe maturity begins the moment I stop asking, “What am I thinking?” and start asking, “Which part of me is doing the thinking?” Maybe freedom isn’t controlling every thought that enters my mind. Maybe it’s realizing I don’t have to believe every thought that introduces itself as me.}

^{The Trained Voice}

^{So I began to wonder why these things kept happening, even when logically I never wanted them to. If I already knew which voice was right, why did I keep following the other one?}

^{At first I thought it was just a lack of discipline. But what if it started from the very first time I gave in? The first time I heard that quiet voice hand me two options, and I took the one that seemed less harmful — the one that gave me the most comfort.}

^{The more I paid attention, the more I noticed this didn’t just start out of nowhere. It was built from the ground up. Every time I negotiated with myself, I sharpened that voice a little more, until now it’s a part of me. It didn’t become convincing overnight. I trained it to become convincing.}

^{The Body of the Observer}

^{That’s when I understood how to navigate it. You have to truly know what your brain is capable of. Don’t underestimate it. In fact, don’t even think it’s you — think of yourself as just the body, the observer, the one with the ability of discernment. So each time those voices appear, the ones that seem so slick, so miniscule, so reasonable, really observe them.}

^{The Argument for Comfort}

^{I remember one of them clearly. It was 3:28 in the afternoon, clothes in my hands, standing in the middle of a room I was finally cleaning. I’d made this whole routine overnight — clean my room, then the gym, then study, then research, or maybe take the day to finally chill once it was all done. For the first time in a while, everything had direction.}

^{Then I got the call. “Come out tonight.”}

^{I told my friends I’d get ready right now. But I was in the middle of it, and by the time I showered after doing all this with the clothes — I figured I’d just do it when I got back home.}

^{Immediately, my mind began visualizing how fun it would be to go out — all the possibilities, all the memories that could happen. Yes, it’s fun. But I also realized I hadn’t planned for it in the day I’d laid out so carefully. I had to go to the gym. I had to clean my room. And my brain said, aww, it could wait. What if you never have this opportunity again? What if they stop asking because you keep saying no? So I went out — no resentment, pure joy — not thinking about the whole plan I’d made, or the fact that I executed none of it, all because of the slightest convenience that called.}

^{The Unseen Negotiations}

^{I think your mind is truly tested when you have nothing to gain from the choice. I made all these plans; they may or may not move me forward. But I’m still going to choose my plans over my friends’ convenience, for the sole fact that I made them — even if going out might have been the better experience. This is important, and I think it separates high-urgency people from low-urgency people. Because you cannot build a sustainable life off of a series of convenience sequences.}

^{I don’t think our identity is built by our biggest decisions. I think it’s built by the thousands of tiny negotiations no one else ever sees. Every time I choose comfort over a commitment I made, I teach my mind that my promises are temporary. Every time I keep it, I teach my mind that my identity isn’t up for negotiation.}

^{Conviction Under Convenience}

^{Imagine a person with goals, morals, standards — a whole way of living in their head — but at every slightest convenience, his actions become the exact opposite of his philosophy. One person says, I will never go back to my ex. But the moment that ex sends a signal or a text, they immediately go against everything they were saying. Oh, how I hate them, I wish they’d never come back into my life, I’ll never allow it. Then the slightest inconvenience passes, and they don’t even take the time to think — they just jump right back. Next time you see them, they’re cool, like nothing happened. That’s not the most profound example of self-respect. This person hurt you, or you didn’t want to be with them the moment something happened — but give it a few days, a week, and they’re back.}

^{The Momentum That Resets}

^{I think this connects to the whole art of duality: two choices, comfort versus logic. One mechanism truly compounds. The other only feels like you’re doing the right thing for yourself. The person who chooses themselves over and over, with little to no convenience factor, will always win — because they’re never at the point where their bar of momentum resets every time they take the comfort route.}

^{Opportunity Cost}

^{Hanging out with friends versus taking the time to isolate and truly find yourself — that’s hard, it requires a lot of hours, but those hours compound. Staying in, or jumping into, new relationships because you love or like someone and want to see how it goes — all of that is time. The time you spend experimenting with new relationships, or staying in them, is the same mechanism: an opportunity cost. Opportunity cost is what you give up to get something else — every hour spent on the comfortable option is an hour taken from your actual goals, and from the person you set out to become.}

^{The Freedom You Can’t Afford}

^{I was in an expensive restaurant once, in a meeting with some richer friends, and one of them asked me: if you were in my position, would you take the same shit you take right now? You put yourself in terrible situations — even ones you want out of — because you have no value, and you physically can’t get out because of your current resources. He told me that should be my driving factor every day: the fact that you can’t do what you want because you’re limited, so you just conform. Those are the days you’re living without true freedom.}

^{Curiosity Over Comfort}

^{So as it relates to what’s real and what’s not — the truth is you have to somehow disassociate your own interest, what you want to be true or how you’re feeling in the moment, from what actually makes logical sense. Let me just forget whatever I’ve gone through and try to look at it objectively. It’s impossible to be 100% objective — it simply isn’t possible, no matter how many people on the internet will tell you it is and then sell you something because of it. So you have to be genuinely curious. That’s the real skill: genuine curiosity, where your desire for the truth is greater than your desire to feel good.}

^{The Image, Not the Person}

^{Humans are social creatures, and you need unification, especially if you’re working toward a common goal. So that sense of conformity is good — but there’s a lot of nuance. I’ll make a valid exception with my friends: I’ll go out, because we’re working toward a common goal that actually produces value in our lives — compared to friends who go out for meaningless events, or just to get drunk and wasted, all with the mindset of we’re young, we’ll never get this time back, so let’s enjoy it. No. You need identity. You have to truly question your friends’ mindset and really analyze them. The friend you hold in your picture is an image that makes your brain feel good. Lately I’ve been trying to look at people for who they truly are — no matter how well they talk, what goals they mention, or how they come across. You have to look at them surface-level and start asking the questions that challenge the image you built.}

^{The Person You Already Decided}

^{Every human does this. It’s why one person can hold two opinions of someone that contradict another person’s entirely — because the perception, the image they carry, is completely different. And we have selective memory. So every time a person acts, we reinforce the identity we already gave them — every time they do something that validates the perspective we hold. What if we’re delusional, because we only take in one side of the millions that might contradict that belief? Maybe we don’t want to believe it. Maybe we don’t want to change, because we don’t want to admit we were wrong. We trust ourselves. The observation I have of this person is mine — I did the work to form it, with my own analysis. You’re telling me it’s wrong because someone else believes differently? No. I trust my judgment far more.}

^{Maybe that’s the hard part. This mindset explains why you can’t truly see things for what they are — because either you trust yourself too much, or you choose the comfort route over facing reality. And more times than not, reality isn’t what it seemed.}

^{A Way of Seeing}

^{The strange thing is that both voices still sound like me. The difference is that only one of them is thinking beyond today.}

^{I don’t think you ever fully silence the other one. But you can learn to hear it for what it is — to catch the negotiation while it’s happening, to see the opportunity cost before you pay it, to look at yourself and the people around you without the comfortable story. That isn’t one decision. It’s a way of seeing. And it’s the whole thing I’ve been trying to put into words — the reason I wrote Undeniable.}