Mirrors the World Doesn't Want—but still pay for.

Hi my dear,

There's a feeling swirling in my chest today.
It's like feeling being skinless—not in pain, but present.
Like standing in a world allergic to truth and realizing:

I'm made of it.

The truth has been always on my side—since I was a child.
Since my consciousness first whispered hello to this reality.

It was there when my mother punished me for speaking my mind.
It was there when my family exiled me for saying my uncle tried to abuse me.
I was stubborn.
I am stubborn.
I kept telling the truth—by asking, by calling out injustice, manipulation, gaslighting.
The world tried to shut me down.
And they almost did.

(Read: A Narcissist Tried to Erase Me. And I'm Still Here.)

We've all been gaslit.
We've all been told to tone it down.
Especially when we dare to be realer than what's allowed.

Do you know Billie Eilish?
She is barely 23 this year. A young American artist with an ancient soul.
I watched a documentary analysis of her life by Farid Dieck. It struck me how her story mirrors so many of ours.
The teenage search for identity.
The war between what we feel and what the world wants us to think instead.

I remember that war.
I remember being crushed by the pressure to conform.
To betray my own mind.
To betray my thoughts were wrong, "too young," too naïve.
But even then, I held my stubborn sword.
I guarded myself with with music, movies and clothes—like armor.
Just like Billie does.

Some call what she's done "bravery".
But it's not just bravery.
It's reclamation.
It's individuality. Sovereign. Humanity.

She wrote about pain. About darkness. About the "too much" we're told to hide.
And still—she was welcomed.
She connected. With kids. With grown-ass women like me.
Because truth doesn't age out.

Have you heard of Kendrick Lamar?
He's a Pulitzer-winning vulnerability wrapped in hip-hop armor.
People say he raps about money and gangs—but no.
He speaks fluent truth.
He writes about pain. About survival. About the parts of the world we're told to forget.
His language is heavy. And real. And human.

Or Doechii.
She wasn't mainstream until "Anxiety" hit social media.
Sticky song. But real.
It's a woman telling the truth about her inner world—and doing it anyway.
Even when it's messy. Even when it's "too much".

I saw a video of her once—tired, eating potato chips, saying she got fired and didn't care.
That she'd go knocking on every studio door, asking for internships.
Now she is winning Grammys.

These artists aren't magical exceptions.
They're proof that truth is not weakness.
It's the blueprint.
And when the privileged pretend they're gods instead of humans?
That's the real delusion.

Me?

I've always been everything anyone could desire—just by being a human being.

Like Doechii is, for herself.

I am writing from my insides.
Not for capitalism.
Not for clicks.
Not for strategy.

Just the raw pulse of what it means to be here.

If you're scared to speak from that place—do it anyway.
If they call you too much, too raw, too real...
You're probably on the right track.

The world tries to punish mirrors.
But we need them now more than ever.

You don't need permission to be everything.