( Here I have written a Short personal story about my fear(s), as i advocate in defense for her( Fears-truth). I go in slight detail describing my reasons for seclusion over the years from the many shadow people Ive encountered, portrayed as your everyday modern people, in a town I secretly call “ The City of Masks”. I share with you a view of my battles ( Fear) living within the inner city at Present day moment. Here I reflect through brief examples of time, as we count down the days walking into 2025. May you riddle through the scenes of my lifes Truth, as her called “FEAR”, journeying as you read and feel with your senses and interpret these words from your inner voice processing the imagery as MY thoughts. I also share befriending the struggle of having Complex PTSD, something ive become adapted to because of the fears.

-Enjoy

“Here she comes, and there she goes. Closing all of doors as she walks away from the many liars that were paid actors in her life”. More than often , they were all a test of time, though the wise say time does not exist. If we were to sleep with our eyes open we wont notice a thing, No different to the sight of our skin as we age, like counting each grain of sand as it falls or the lines of wrinkles that appear everytime we blink. Tell it to the gray hairs ive noticed popping up over the years that i wear with pride and take as a medal of honor for wisdom.

Like a samurai with her sword, a dagger of truth is what I tote. For the many silent battles Ive won solving the once hidden riddles of cold cases that were forced closed by the authors of corruption deemed as model citizens hoisting there cursed badges and smug smiles of cracked glass as they marvel themselves with vanity lying to the world. They found joy and solace in baiting the many people i used to know with dirty money, buying a ghostly departure of silence, it became similar to waking up in your home of an open door like a thief had come and gone in the middle of the night. “There words spoke darkness coveting a rouse of death with fear questioning discussions to the pieces of my life, as if I were a large puzzle they were trying to solve like a mobster stationed in an alley way, waiting to snatch you up while walking home in the dead of night… never to hear from them again”. The fear of opening up to the wrong crowd, or a single person troubled me to not converse anymore wondering who sent them depending on the questions they asked like knowing portions to my past as if they came in scripted, this may seem as an intrigued read though this is indeed pure non fiction.

Just like the time in 2021 when a mentalist and his wife so happened to be parked across the street from my house by King Park that summer. He got out of his car and came in a joking manner to ask me to think of a number , hold it in my mind, then add possibly 10 or 20 to that number for him to guess- which he did three separate times to perform his skill to me as a mind reader though he never openly admitted to being such. I smiled with admiration and inclined that that was a God given gift and should be used as a tool to help people for the good and congratulated him as he departed away from me ( In that moment In my mind I was hoping he read my thoughts of the danger in breaking spiritual law with the intent to bio hack the mind for purposes of psychological warfare) “tisk tisk” what a guy. “You never meet people by coincidence , we all serve a purpose when we cross paths in another’s life, even if its a short greeting when walking past, no one ever forgets the beauty of a simple smile”. Lets not forget about the fear I had when i crossed paths with a shape shifting reptilian who eyes flipped under the street light during a full moon.

This figure was a computer tech , hacker , loud mouth bozo who bragged of his Masonic cult ties with a Middle Eastern background. He called him self a poltergeist ( eye roll) , though every time he came by things would fall off my wall or go missing ,lbvs. There was no fearing there in regards to him, again, Its just the thought that there are people with supernatural gifts that abuse them for darker agendas rather than serving the greater good of humanity. They instead find happiness in toying with the vulnerable creating havoc in their lives all while harvesting not only the victims energy, but there ideas and creations, modeling in another’s skin of divinity. “ They are like sharks who smell blood in the deepest ocean , ready to feed upon the fear of those who are trying to survive a life of terror hoping to purify themselves in the bluest water” but beware the of narks ( The definition of a crooked narcissistic police informant) are just the human form of the Great White Shark, a predator of the meek none the less.

All of my years of living i’ve encountered alot of Agent Smiths . Some dont even deserve the notion of mentioning , it would gratify there ploy to be the murderous villain in my life, though me exposing these truths would set her free,…set Fear free. “She deserves that , to be set free from the bondage of being on constant edge, a warrior woman who deserves more than her flowers but a purple heart for her grit and strength that helped amplify my purpose in the thick of it all. “Fear kept the faith strong ,because when she prayed those cries to the heavens turned my tears of waves into Hurricanes that washed in Gods warmth of mercy for my aching heart, but awakened a wrath from the darkness of Heavens universal fire sent to all of the devils children , who took an oath to be puppets to the harlots grand scheme of a dauntless schism of grief .” Once you learn to surrender, Over night it could blow in the winds of change so bold and loud like that of the ” Tri State Tornado”… metaphorically speaking, “Truth will rain in the light of justice in the most surreal way, as if Salvador Dali painted the outcome himself”. Those who played with a badge and cuffs were the ones now being shackled and forced to face themselves in the room of mirrors that shamed them in gruesome chants heralding JUDGEMENT for all of the innocence the world has lost to the egregious acts covered and sealed by those sworn in the manish mens Chambers of Secret.
A sound of lightening would appear to every crack that would splice in each mirror facet for every scream never heard, that was covered by the hands of a crooked authoritative figure lying under oath. Every dark occult would be exposed for shielding the pain with there book of illusions to set free the earth bound souls of those forgotten as they swayed across the fields in the night hoping for a single thought of remembrance by a loved one still living. Even a mother gone would turn over in her grave by the whispers of those murmuring a plot for premeditated death to her children, she will arise as the reaper herself from below to bring vengeance. Even if mother is long gone, she will find a way to come back to let you in on the truth, cause after all… A mother knows”. Wisdom will appear like visions in a dream, Like smoke signals pillowing above in the sky to alert the Chief.

“ My dreams are like warning signs that herald the truth, because my eyes do not lie” i’ve evaded death many times as proof. The deceivers fear my voice when I speak, that’s why they slandered my character and put poison in my food and drink just so i wouldn’t remember a thing. It was an attempt with hope that id never awaken, with a sane mind remembering the words they said before they left, not knowing i knew exactly what it was when they left a dead crow filled with bugs wrapped with twine thrown on my wicker seating as they attempted to hex me and my childs life. I still live knowing the beings of light reflected that arrow of darkness back to the deranged conjurers whose eyes were filled with envy, congregating in there coven of Stockholm abusers pretending to be pro life and believers of divinity. Manipulators of all kinds have toyed with my mental like clans of Jekyll and Hyde showmen, gaslighting my sanity to only strengthen my awareness to sense when I was being tested by being tempted .

They used dirt and bones casting magic from the graveyard and Jar spells from down yonder, “ From the very same place in the bayou where Katrina once reigned in with the karmic wish of death for debt from conjuring with spirits forbidden to Hells kitchen of haitian shadow men and Jinns never heard of… Though i knew them because we battled numbers of many lifetimes ago”. And because i knew, They feared the voice of my truth. They jumped to the quickness to spread lies and gossip. They wanted to be baneful by musing in the image of a lesser god for power, gluttony and the rest of the deadly sins as a way to antagonize my character of knowing in a group of scared satanist harboring there hatred. The light of truth began to pour in the corners of there dim lit rooms where the skeletons they hid were to much to hide that prevented their closet door from shutting.

Just like Fear, she wouldnt let me stay quiet and stop defending what was right. I proceeded in secret going to court while speaking up for my child regardless of the threats of the judge against her crooked cop of a father who lied and denied an unhealthy amount of times , grooming in an attempt to confuse my daughters fragile mind way before she could reach adolescence . This silent war battling fear became wicked because i chose to speak up thus granting me a gift of a lifetime trinket of complex PTSD. A stored memory bank of the repetitive traumatic events and discussions remain dormant casted in the walls of my mind like a vivid mural that moves with scenes like a play back for an old fashioned movie projector . I will never forget the smells, the gut retching pinch in my abdomen at certain cues , the undertones in there voices, neither the action or inaction when emotional support was neglected because of my courage to point out there immoral nature as sexual deviants and unbothered reactions.

The Fear taught me self respect and gave me the push to walk away after all the facts were gathered .“ The City Of Masks” is what I named it after it became clear that i was standing alone in the storm, seeing that the people I loved either stayed mute or jumped ship to defend perpetrators and liars because of the past they had( Being close like Kin as in blood ties) some just fancied them because they were wearing a badge, not really knowing them for who they really were masking inside. “I was too real to honest and too raw for those living a lie, because me choosing the heal as a victim would reveal to them the very things they ran from or hid from the world or perhaps either did in secret themselves .” Even the term “ I am my brothers keeper” shed light to a sworn secrecy of covering the acts of incest and molestation while scrutinizing the true victims that suffered because they feared saying something.Though Fear consumed me like a pit of darkness once upon a time, she became like a friend who saw trouble coming and redirected me at times as my supporter and protector to evade harm right at the knick of time.
Maybe it was just my strong intuition and the dreams that made me react quicker. These are the things one would deem as obstacles and became like weight packs in training that I began shouldering through in a jungle filled with a hazing fume. Fear isn’t all the way as bad as she was made to look, more like a sergeant who taught you how to withstand pain while wading in the swamps as a trait for tactical awareness in the midst of breathing through a panic attack. “The fear helped me to seek faith , which ultimately led me to the light and became my saving grace while i cocooned myself at home creating art about my past lives and untapped findings of self discover. Even creating some of the best written works of writing about my supernatural experiences that brought me to life as i was forced to really go within regardless of it being clear the outside world was crashing with fire and caving in ”.

It all depends on how you look at it, overcoming the shadow side of fear is me writing about my harbored struggles of having Complex PTSD – Something that accumulated due to the repetitive abuse of covert antagonism from the over bearing figures that were staggered and stationed in my life. As well as the psychological torture I endured from manipulative authoritative figures as we strategized a swirl of a quiet war with divination abusers who celebrated at performing a wicked game of psychosis tampering into the dark arts. “There is so much more I could express but it would turn this writing into a broader length of an added 4 page letter of why Fear became my crutch, thus morphing in a beautiful flower shaped like a bleeding heart”. Me and her both know as weve grown together its getting close for us to depart, it feels so freeing being able to finally talk about these burdens that once held me captive afraid to admit my scars. I’ve become like an Orca whale on the roam with her child , ready to be unleashed into uncharted waters, leaving everything she once knew behind… “ Her Fear turned into her Truth, as her eyes looked up and guided her into the blue following the stars from afar.”