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Truth in Cliche

What is my truth?

How can I express words I can’t even fathom?

What keeps me separate from everyone else?

I feel like an alien. An alien whose spacecraft just landed on planet Earth.

I live in a wasteland. There’s nothing here. Nothing but dried rocks and hardly anything salvageable.

I must come to terms with this chasm deep within myself.

It longs to be filled with something sweet, like the promise of love.

I’m wondering if such a thing exists for me. True love, that is.

If we’re not here to love then what are we here for?

Surely not the promises of glory or acclaim.

Nay, those aren’t the things I seek.

Sometimes I close my eyes and start to dig. I never know what I might excavate.

This land I live in is like an excavation site and new things turn up every day.

I must remain strong. It’s the way of this world.

Memories pushed to the side sit atop the surface. The only way out is through.

When You Find Out You’re Literally the Joker (but not exactly)

In my journey of self discovery I’ve come across a lot of nuance and new concepts. I’ve known about the Myer-Briggs test or MBTI personality test but I never took it. On the first attempt I got INFP(INFJ). I knew it couldn’t be a fluke. Everything about INFP made sense.

For those who don’t know, it means Introverted- Intuitive-Feeling-Perceiving. While INTJ, the personality type, which accounts for 1% of the entire global population stands for Introverted-Intuitive-Thinking-Judging. INFP also makes up a small fraction at 4%.

Being that the probability of getting such a result is so rare, the chances of getting that result are so slim that it would be almost impossible to put the wrong answers and get the result unless that was the result you were intentionally trying to get.

It seems that INFJ and INFP are regularly associated with the Empath Archetype. Or someone who empathizes heavily with others almost to their detriment. This is something I experience on a daily basis. It’s no wonder I sometimes envy those who can remain detached in every single situation.

I cannot merely just sit back and be indifferent to the world’s suffering. It’s just not in my DNA. Literally, and also on a cosmic soul level, apparently.

It seems their is a certain kind of individual, or a healer rather, they are called Heyoka. They are shamanistic in nature but are known as tricksters and you could even liken them to something like a demi-god. At least that’s how they are perceived in the culture of the Sioux nation people. The Lakota, The Dakota and Nakota tribes that make up the great plains of North America.

These tribes have a legacy going way back. Think of Heyokas as sacred clowns. They are distinguished and notable for knowing just the right thing to say, how to make someone laugh, how to disarm someone without engaging in violence and so on. They are tricksters, yes, and they may take on many “roles” and disguises but they are true to themselves, don’t get it confused.

Heyokas are largely associated with the MBTI type INFJ. With INFJs being so rare in the world, it’s safe to say that Heyokas are a small commodity. But they are not akin to just the Sioux Nation. Tricksters are all over mythology. Just think of the Norse god Loki. He’s a trickster.

Like anything, knowing what is on another’s mind at any given time and knowing how to get through to them could be used for evil but more often than not, Heyokas just find themselves unable to be inauthentic. Just by merely being true to themselves they are holding up a mirror to people and whatever people see is just a reflection of their deepest darkest fears, insecurities, unhealed traumas or aspirations or even what makes them happy, tick or stimulated.

Truly, Heyokas are underrated. And being that a psychic told me in a reading that my soul’s original name is of Sioux origin it only makes even more sense that I happen to be simultaneously an Empath, INFJ and yes, a Heyoka. I can see it in myself it’s so easy to recognize.

All our lives we are told we are not that special. But if you could back it up with physical proof? It’s literally the top 1% of people. It’s quite astonishing. I can’t help to think I have an immense responsibility to help others but overall help myself reach a certain level of jubilee and grace and distinction so that I may serve others in a real way…

We Don’t Talk About the Stuff in the Basement.

My blunt force trauma. An axe blow to the head.

I wake up half-conscious, dizzy–near paralyzed.

Trying desperately to recollect the memory of what happened–and what consequently led to the unfolding of these events.

Life is quite simple really but then why do we insist on making it hard?

They don’t love me. They never did. Ouch. That’s gonna hurt in the morning.

What’s behind that black door and what are they keeping in the basement and what don’t they want me to know?

Fuck it, I’ll take matters into my own hands the same way they unabashedly sought to secure my demise.

I tip-toe down to the basement, staggering still and in shock from the head trauma.

I may be going into this recklessly but all I know is facing things head on.

I try to ease my step yet I lose balance and fall pitifully down the stairs.

There’s a lot to be uncovered here. Things left unnoticed, unperturbed, relegated to the subconscious mind. Covered in a slew of cobwebs. This stuff has been left alone for decades. Even centuries…

Now that’s drama for your trauma…

Beautiful Black Boy

Hey beautiful black boy, how’s your mental health?

When is the last time someone checked in on you?

Hey beautiful black boy

Our ancestors went through too much for you to be so hard on yourself.

Remember where you come from. Warriors. Legends. Tribes. Kings and queens. Dynasties.

Hey beautiful black boy. Your lips aren’t too big. They’re just right.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to like things other than Hip-Hop, Basketball and shiny jewelry.

Hey beautiful black boy. You can be with anyone you want. F*ck what they told you.

Hey beautiful black boy. It’s okay to cry sometimes.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to not be so tough all the time.

It’s also okay to use big words and vocabulary.

Hey beautiful black boy, there’s nothing wrong with working a regular job.

There’s nothing wrong with not being a player.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to be romantic sometimes.

Hey beautiful black boy, it’s okay to show your artistic side.

It’s okay to be kind to everyone. Children, grown-ups and even animals.

Hey beautiful black boy. It’s okay to wear pink, wear flowers in your hair, paint your nails and to like girly things.

Hey beautiful black boy. It’s okay to like the same sex.

Hey beautiful black boy. When they look at you as a savage, just remember that they don’t know the real you.

Hey beautiful black boy


Imagine this…

You are brought into a world with no previous knowledge of it. Your first breath of air is a gasp.

The first people you are introduced to are your family. You spend your formative years with them. About four or so, at least until you are able to speak and communicate.

When you are old enough, you are taken away from the comfort of your home and warm embrace of your parents and put in the schooling system. You cry. Since you can’t see them all day every day.

School is exciting at first because you get to learn new things. Try new things. Expand your curiosity.

You may make some friends but only at a superficial level.

Then as the years go by, you become more independent. You realize you don’t need your parents for everything. You develop new interests and hobbies. Maybe you make new friends as a result of these interests.

You get older and realize that people will lie to get what they want. Turn on others if need be. And that people have a cruel side. Maybe you’ve lied to get your way or gone behind someone’s back.

For whatever reason, you are here now. You didn’t really ask to be put here and maybe you didn’t really want to lie or go behind that person’s back but you saw no other way at the time.

You try to develop your own sense of identity. You figure out what you like in other people and what you dislike… Over time, things seem to clear themselves up.

Still, there’s confusion. Maybe about the way you feel. Your job. Am I doing things the right way?

Then suddenly you ask yourself what you are doing it all for and how so many years flew by. All the times you wasted with people who seemed to be good for you… You wonder how you can protect yourself from being hurt again.

You don’t want to need people but you do.

Also, you are not a child anymore and you can’t just live off your parents. You’re expected to have things figured out. Manage your emotions, navigate people and live in a world that becomes more maddening by the second.


What you are left with…