Evil is not an entity. It is not a being, nor a force that moves on its own. It does not float through the universe, waiting to strike. Evil is born. And it is born inside us—not as something separate but as something we create, shape, and give life to through emotions we fail to control, thoughts we refuse to confront, and actions we justify in moments of weakness.

At the root of every evil act, you will find a wounded emotion—someone betrayed, angered, humiliated, or broken. In that moment of pain, they make a choice. A choice that carries weight. A choice that alters reality.

The Role of Emotions in the Birth of Evil

Emotions are tools, nothing more. They are meant to guide us, like a compass navigating the currents of life. But just like fire, they can either warm and illuminate or burn and destroy. And here lies the truth: Evil is never born from happiness. It is a byproduct of suffering.

A person who is happy, at peace, and fulfilled naturally makes choices that align with harmony. It is rare—almost impossible—for a truly happy person to intentionally harm someone. Evil does not breed in joy. It breeds in pain.

Pain clouds judgment, poisons logic, and blinds the spirit. It convinces a person that destruction is justified, that revenge is righteous, that cruelty is strength. Pain is the doorway where evil enters.

Think about it:

• When does a man decide to kill? When his anger, fear, or jealousy blinds him.
• When does a woman decide to destroy? When betrayal, bitterness, or grief consumes her.
• When does a child become cruel? When their suffering teaches them that cruelty is power.

Pain fuels destruction. And the greater the pain, the stronger the reaction. This is why when a person is deeply hurt, their immediate decisions are almost never rational. Their actions come from raw emotion, not thought.

Now, some will ask: What about those who are born evil? The ones who harm without reason? The ones who kill without provocation?

The answer is simple: No one is born evil. But some are programmed to become it.

The Generational Cycle of Evil

Some people do not need pain to be cruel. They do not need betrayal to deceive, nor loss to destroy. Their actions seem driven by something deeper, something instinctual. But even they are not born evil. They are programmed into it.

• A child raised in chaos learns chaos as truth.
• A mind exposed to cruelty accepts cruelty as normal.
• A soul deprived of love forgets what love feels like.

This is how evil moves through generations—not as an inherent trait, but as a repeated pattern. The sins of the past embed themselves in the present, rewriting the mind before it has a chance to form independently.

And unless broken, this pattern continues, spreading like a disease across bloodlines, across civilizations, across time itself.

Yet, there is always a choice. Always.

No programming is absolute. No destiny is fixed. Even the deepest darkness can be undone—but only by those who see it. And this is why most do not change—because they do not recognize the chains they wear.

The Illusion of Justified Evil

Here is where things get dangerous: Most people who commit evil do not believe they are doing wrong.

Evil does not announce itself. It does not say, I am destruction. Instead, it whispers:

• I am justice.
• I am necessary.
• I am right.

No one believes they are the villain in their own story.

• The man who seeks revenge believes he is delivering justice.
• The leader who oppresses people believes he is securing order.
• The woman who manipulates others believes she is protecting herself.

This is the great deception—evil rarely sees itself as evil.

When emotion controls the mind, logic bends to fit its desires. And when logic bends, reality distorts—a distortion where cruelty becomes necessary, where harm becomes justified, where destruction becomes an act of self-righteousness.

The greatest evils in history were not committed by people who thought they were wrong. They were committed by those who believed they were right.

But the truth is simple:

If your pain is controlling your decisions, you are not in control. You are being controlled.

How to Break Free from the Cycle of Evil

If emotions give birth to evil, then the only way to fight evil is to master emotions.

Not to suppress them—not to pretend they don’t exist—but to understand them and use them wisely.

1. Recognize your triggers. What emotions make you react instantly without thinking?
2. Pause before action. The biggest mistakes in life happen because people act in the heat of emotion. Learn to wait. Learn to breathe.
3. Detach from the illusion of control. Many people act out of pain because they feel powerless. But power does not come from controlling others—it comes from controlling yourself.
4. Rewrite your programming. If your bloodline has a history of destruction, it is up to you to end it. Awareness is the first step. Choice is the second. Action is the third.
5. Do not trust your emotions in the moment of pain. If you make decisions while you are hurt, angry, or afraid, you are handing your power to the very thing you are trying to escape.

Final Thought: The Truth About Evil

Evil is not a monster hiding in the dark. It is not an external force waiting to attack.

It is simply what happens when emotion overpowers wisdom.

No one is born evil.

But anyone can become it.

The question is—who is in control? You or your emotions?

march 15 2025
the best day of my life

I want to preface this by saying the title may be slightly misleading-march 15 was not the best day of my life in question (although, it was pretty good).

after spending a couple hours dillydallying about fisherman’s wharf and pier 39 in San Francisco, I decided to take the cable car back to my hotel (only the cable car took us half way, kicked us out, and told us to take the bus, which I opted to walki the mile, I decided I needed to walk that extra scoop of ice cream off). anywho, I was sitting in the cable car, distracting my mind from being present, scrolling through tiktok while also on facetime with my long-distance best friend. i saw a tiktok that nearly stopped me dead in my tracks. he was posing the question of “what was the best day of your life?” and I really thought ‘wow, I can’t pinpoint that’. and of course, the comments were filled with similar thoughts to my own.

what’s even worse, I could immediately think of an exact date that I’d consider the worst day of my life. I can tell you all the details about that day. almost as if I can relive it.

so it had me thinking, what could possibly have been the best day of my life? and a lot of people like to go the route of they haven’t lived it yet, they haven’t gotten to the best day ever yet. but that proves the point.
that proves that we are always just waiting for the next best. that we’re always comparing every good thing to happen to something else. that enough is never actually enough. success isn’t successful enough. happiness isn’t happy enough. every good thing could be better. we have so deeply engrained in us the ideal that the grass is greener on the other side. that’s what drives people to infidelity. because there’s always someone else out there that could be better, right?

it’s the potential we hold onto, the hope that we grasp onto. I think it gives us purpose- knowing the best day ever has yet to come. that we will always have something to look forward to because the best day has yet to happen. (at least, for the glass half full kinda people- optimistically scouring the earth for meaning, searching for the positive in every situation, seeing the world as beautiful and abundant.)

but I don’t think that way. I think when we are asked what the best day of our life has been, it’s conclusive only of what we have so far experienced. it’s a day that’s subjective. and may continue to get replaced as we live on, and value other things and find other events more fulfilling or more joyful.

it’s much easier to pinpoint the worst day ever because we don’t want to top it. we don’t want to one up some really bad shit. we want to leave it in the past. horrible days beg for our acknowledgement because they drain the life out of us. experiencing a day so bad that you were so painfully aware of all of your surroundings down to the smell of the stale air in the brick room of the house that was built in 1812 that you were standing on. down to the sound the floor made when you stepped on the creaky wood on your way out the door for the final time. you’ll remember exact phrases you said, exact ways that you felt. tastes, smells, sights, absolutely consumed you in a moment that left a forever imprint on your being. maybe not everyone’s worst day of their life was a traumatic event, but I think a lot of people have experienced trauma in even smaller scales.

horrible events beg for us to be sucked into them. they are so energetically draining, like a black hole, an energy vacuum. the energy we put towards negativity requires more effort than feelings of joy, which is why negative memories are far easier to remember than those that were joyful. bad things are often synonymous with our uncontrollables in life. because, unfortunately, we are unable to control everything in our life, which can lead to unfavorable things taking place. and, well, that’s life. but it takes a decision, effort, to make a positive thing happen. it takes effort to have the best day ever, and the worst day ever is typically one that happens TO us, rather than for us, perhaps.

though, I believe joy requires more autonomy. it’s like the paralysis of decision. deciding which day we can proclaim as the best feels like too much pressure. there’s where the pressure to be perfect comes into play. the pressure for the best. we have more choice in the decision of the best moments in our life than our worst. as I feel joy is a passive feeling, that is fleeting because it feels good to flow with the emotion of. and experiencing pain or suffering is much more active, as we spend the time in efforts to resist the feeling, rather than sitting in it and going with the flow. it’s easy to get in the boat and flow happily along the river, it feels good, natural, easy. it’s much easier to be joyful and have a happy memory. but you’ll remember the time you had to row upstream in a storm and all of the effort you had to put in to keep moving forward. same way our brain works through memories.

somehow, joy takes effort and happens naturally all at once. that’s the duality of it. it can be easy, and so difficult.

so, I was thinking about my best day. and I think where I’m struggling is that I want to combine a bunch of favorite memories to make the most perfect best day ever. I find something wrong with each day that I start to think is the best I’ve had. nothing is sufficient. it doesn’t help that I’m a happy crier, it doesn’t take much to make me feel emotional in a good way. and every time I feel so encompassed in my emotion, my eyes swell, I feel so deeply. that’s why I’ve been pondering my best day ever, wracking my brain of every positive memory I have ever had in my 24 years of existence thus far.

luckily for us, we’re likely to replace our best day ever time and time again. it just means we experience way more good in life than bad, and thank the Lord for that.

my most recent best day ever was in Belgium.

I arrived in Brussels and decided I wanted to take the train to Ghent. oddly, I have felt an overwhelming sense of comfort every time I’ve been to Belgium, a home-like feeling. this time was no different. on the 40-minute train to Ghent, I sat by the window. put my phone face down on the tray table in front of me, took my airpods out and put them back in their case, and just stared out the window. I do this thing when I’m traveling where I actively try to soak in every single moment, especially the mundane moments. (though I’m realizing I’m a hypocrite based on paragraph two of this.) if you lived in Brussels and took the train to Ghent every weekend, you likely would find ways to distract yourself, you would get used to the ride, bored of it even. not me, this was my first time. and looking out at the countryside, it was so eerily similar to parts of Kentucky where I’m from, and I started tearing up. the small part of myself that misses home was feeling engulfed in this moment. the little girl that was coloring next to me kept looking over at me and I’d like to think it was because she thought I was cool, but she probably actually thought I was ridiculous. I actually thought she was really cool, I was thinking wow, how cool would it have been to grow up here.

after getting dropped off in Ghent, I wandered through the streets, and this is what I have in my note’s app,

“the countryside of belgium, perhaps ‘the burbs’ inbetween brussels & ghent, actually look eerily like kentucky. and i feel weirdly at home.
ok everyone comes out on sunday to buy tulips & other flowers in ghent? thats cute. and the rich people have having bottles of wine & charcuterie in the middle of all of it”

that doesn’t tell you much. but for a moment, I envisioned myself living here, coming out on a Sunday afternoon to buy tulips and have a European brunch with family and friends, and I liked the way I felt a serotonin boost just by picturing that alone.

I decided to take a little touristy boat tour through the canals for 9 euros (where the f is the euro symbol on my keyboard?). I sat down next to a girl who said she’s from Vancouver, who proceeded to tell me about her corporate job that absolutely went over my head. I thought she was cool enough to share a boat seat with for 40 minutes I suppose.

when I took the train back to Brussels after having wine and the best brioche with chocolate chips, I wandered around (clearly I do a lot of that). ate more random little bites and stumbled into my favorite little park in the city where there is always live music and people joined around. by live music, I mean men who pull up with a guitar and sing typically. but it always speaks to my soul. and I get emotional every time. I sat and listened, I watched, I took some deep breaths to take it all in.

later that night, I stumbled into a cool reclining wooden chair looking at the cathedral where I sat to watch as the sun went down, and I felt God smiling at me. I swear. on my walk back, I got mistaken for a local and that made me feel like I belong in a cool girl way. I even got gelato and the man shaped it into a rose for me. I saw more people singing but this time in the Grand Place, and I fell in love with life all over again.

all of that goes to say, maybe that was my most favorite day ever. but then, I can’t help but to think there was probably a day in my life that tops that. part of me feels like the best day ever should have included a cool accomplishment, like when I graduated flight attendant training and was really emotional about it, or ran 20 miles for the first time, or hiked a mountain, my first solo hiking trip, or my first solo international trip, or something. but maybe my silly little 24-hour work trip to Brussels where I took a train to Ghent will sit there for now. and I won’t rush the next best day ever. somehow there is something really awesome about every single day, even the ‘meh’ days.

Unsealers,

I seem to have a difficult time finding the right words to begin an introduction about who I am because I am still trying to figure that out for myself. I do know that I have a story to tell, and I feel incredibly grateful to have stumbled upon this community where I finally have an opportunity to start doing that for the first time in my life.
Starting at a young age, I had a craving for the fast life. I entered into the throws of addiction shortly after my age became double digits, I was gifted with a laundry list of mental health diagnosis at age 25 including but not limited to type 1 bipolar, C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression; and in turn I have landed myself in some fairly… less than ideal circumstances due to those facts. All in all my intentions are mostly pure, but I have a tendency to take red flags and mistake them for a carnival, and I seem to try every wrong thing first before I finally get life figured out. Some of the shit I have gotten myself into has changed me forever, some of it makes for a hilarious story, and some of it can still bring me to tears just by thinking about it. All of it has brought me to where I am today. I have experienced child birth, divorce (not once but twice), multiple types of abuse (both on the giving and receiving end), homelessness, prostitution, incarceration, and the list goes on. It will be interesting to see going forward how this all eventually gets out on paper, but I appreciate every one of you that are about to guide me through making that happen. I would love to get to know you all, and I am looking forward to reading what each of you has to say.

XOXO, kendy

You can see us on street corners
Or down the dark alleys
We are hardly a sight for sore eyes
We are dirty and vacant
With ripped clothes and sad faces
We wear this as our new disguise.
See some time ago
We were regular people
Until something in life got us down
Whether it heartbreak or money
Family or lack of
There’s something we needed to drown
The voices in our heads
That tell us we aren’t worth shit
Or The memories we just can’t move on from
Maybe it’s trauma or sadness
Or just basic madness
Fill in the blank with your own noun
It ripped us apart
And it spit out the pieces
And robbed us of all we once cherished
We were desperate for relief
So we followed the dragon
We got lost on the way; our souls perished.
Now as is probably Expected
Pretty much textbook
We burn bridges with selfish behavior
Some of us come back
And they find inner peace
And usually they call it their savior
But some of us misfits
The world has forgotten
We’re broken and fucked up
downright dirty and rotten
Someone or something has shattered our hearts
And we know that we’re never the same
So we escape all the pain
With powder or pills
And we find ourselves stuck in this game
We spiral and wander
Away from reality
And further down into the abyss
The people around us
eventually give up
Cause what’s even still there to miss?
We are just scumbags on street corners
Or down the dark alleys
We’re junkies; unfortunate souls
We fucked up, we get it
We don’t need reminded
Please shut up or spark up a bowl

Can we go back to playing barbies on the bedroom floor?
Playing baby dolls on rainy days?
Or to those Saturday mornings of cartoons & a big bowl of Fruit Loops cereal?
Can we go back to those summer days of frozen Capri Suns, popsicles, & all day swim sessions?
Or to those skid knees from falling off bikes.
Falling down from rollerblading.
Can we go back to late night sleepovers at grandma’s house?
Or those next morning wake up calls of fresh pancakes consuming grandma’s house.
Can we go back to playing videos games all night?
Playing the game tag all day outside?
Can we go back to a time when it wasn’t rushing us to grow old?
When time was less of our worries.
Or to those summer days of riding bikes in dust storms feeling powerful?
Can we go back to a time when feeling free was all we knew?

I sit down to write
You’re on my mind again
But this is nothing new
By now I’m used to it

Sometimes it’s all consuming
Other times, fleeting thoughts
Either way it hits me
I’m left feeling lost

I ache to my core for you
Miss every moment we never shared
I need you to know I love you
And that I’ll always care

I’ll never forget you
My soul knows something is missing
My brain tries to rationalize it
But my heart is never listening

Dear Unsealed,
PSYCHOLOGY OF PROJECTION
The theory of the psychology of projection is a phenomenal viral situation in 2024.
There are people who project their ill feelings, anger, insecurities onto the closest empath standing in their way.
You spewed obscenities at me that day
As you do everyday
you blame me for your failed attitude
that is not subdued
I ask you why
Why do you project your insecurities onto me
You reply
It’s all your fault
It’s my fault you say
No, you just caught
In another lie
I sigh
Why?
You yell at me
You are nothing to me
So, let it be
I cry
I say
No
I could be your fake friend
Until the end
So, then you yell
To me
Not let it be
But cruel words of anger
That makes you a danger
To my world
To your world
To all worlds
As you carry on
With your blaming me
For your misdeeds
Of unconscious reprimanding me
Or any other empath
The victim of your wrath
You are jealous and angry
You sit around spewing obscenities
Of hate and bigotry of amenities
And talents of other people on Earth
So, tell me,
For what it’s worth
How do you wake up everyday
To your vile words of insanity
Of what may be your reality
To trash the Earth
With your dark soul
Of cruel intentions of old
As your soul was sold
To the vile fiery hell of hades
Of your life of death,
Here what I say.
Your dark empty vessel of skin
Can not win
You are the demon of Earth
For what it’s worth
You are not anything
You are a blank empty soul
Of nothing
But your lies
Your ego
You cry, you scream
At me
Let it be
You are the epitome of humanity
Garbage dump
Dump Dump

When I see a tiny lizard or a gecko on the sidewalk, I see you & smell the softness of pancakes cooking in the kitchen.

When I see a black cat, I see you & instantly smell gingerbread cookies baking in the oven around Christmas time.

When I see a white Chevy truck, I see two young girls sitting in the bed of the truck embracing the moment of the wind blowing amongst their tiny faces after a fun filled day in the snow

When I see elder men wearing their “Veterans” hat, I see you standing before me. I feel the softness in the air. I see the gentleness of your soul standing amongst the crowd. I thank that individual for their service as I walk away.

When I see the color purple out in the world, I see you. When I’m at work & hear similar words from my clients, I think of you standing before me. When I see the card game “Go Fish” being played, I see two younger girls sitting at their grandmother’s table laughing til their tummy hurts.

When I see a yellow tractor, I see a young adult enjoying the time being spent with their grandfather. When I see a blue truck, I see you & start singing those old country songs we’d sing together.

No matter where I go in life, I see you.
I see all of you!
Wherever I go, you are right there guiding the way. The way to clarity. To beautiful blessings. To happiness. To calmness. To love.

No matter the length of missing you, the memories, all of the memories will forever be shared.
Wherever I go in life, I know I have several bodyguards guiding me along my path. Protecting me.

I met my younger self on a Sunday morning in a church parking lot.
She looked as if she just saw God.
Hair golden blonde.
Eyes piercing blue.
Sun beaming on her young face.
She ran up to my car and jumped in the passenger seat.
Touching every button.
Opening every compartment.
Smiling.
Dimples radiating so big.
She looks over at me and with a smile as big as a car tire, she tells me, “We did it!”
She gives me such a huge hug, one that felt as if it was building up for years.
Smiles at me with such accomplishment.
Opens the car door and gradually skips away to the beat of her own drum.
As I watch that little girl skip away, I acknowledge her happiness.
Her joy. Her fulfillment.
I acknowledge the fear that once guarded her.
As I watch that little girl skip away, I remind myself that every achievement is not just for me, but for her as well.
She deserves the world.
She deserves achievements.
She deserves this moment right now.
Right here in the church parking lot.