There’s this pull toward something greater. It’s a realm of abundance, wisdom, and joyful possibility. My ambition is a river inside me and if I don’t set it in motion, it risks becoming a storm. I am thankful for the steps I’ve taken, but this is only a whisper of what I’m meant to create.

Information and exposure are the rivers that carve the paths of those like me ~ young Nigerians, born not with silver spoons but with a hunger to rise. Like many, I have wished, in the solitude of late nights, to rewind time….undo the missteps, grasp what slipped and correct everything that left me standing at the edge of a vast, uncertain world.

Yet, through deep self-reflection, clarity emerges. Clarity in thought, action, and behavior. I now see that no matter where we stand on life’s path, the universe offers lifelines, opportunities to rise, yet it is our exposure, and the information we posses, that determines whether we can recognize them or not.

In my twenty something years of living, I’ve made countless mistakes, avoidable errors born from ignorance, repeated through my failure to learn. And now the burden has fallen on me to raise my bloodline from the suppressing depths of poverty.

Childhood, in many African contexts, is not a soft beginning. At its core it’s a blueprint drawn by background, by family structure, by the economy you are born into, and by the society that surrounds you. From the earliest years, a child is shaped not only by parental guidance but also by the wider ecosystem of extended family, neighbors, underfunded schools, unstable systems, and the unspoken expectations of survival. In Nigeria especially, childhood often carries an early awareness of responsibility, you grow up aware of limits, of expectations, and of the pressure to become something more than your circumstances. You learn quickly that life is not just about becoming but overcoming.

The construct of your upbringing, whether marked by scarcity or relative comfort begins to script your confidence, your exposure, your sense of what is possible. Society in its duality, both supports and limits. It raises you through community, shared struggle, and cultural grounding, yet it can also confine you through poor infrastructure, limited opportunities, and systemic barriers. You learn from what is present and from what is missing. You watch adults carry burdens without explanation, and somewhere along the line, you begin to prepare yourself to carry your own.

Education is introduced as the way forward, almost without question. It is spoken of with urgency, as something that can change everything, even when the system delivering it is inconsistent. It’s still seen as a lifeline, a narrow bridge between circumstance and possibility. But even education is unequal in its delivery, it can inspire or underprepare, awaken curiosity or enforce conformity. Still, you hold on to it, because it represents a chance however uncertain to step beyond what you inherited. Growing up, then, is not just about age or independence but the gradual realization that where you started will influence you, but it does not have to define you completely. It is learning to take what you were given, question it, and decide deliberately what you will carry forward and what you will leave behind.

University, for us, is never just a classroom. School is like a whole different world, the person we enter as is never who we emerge as. It is a crucible where we are shaped not only by knowledge but by the hunger to survive, to belong, and to break free from cycles of scarcity. It is there we learn resilience, encounter life’s harsh edges, and meet others who shape us. Some to inspire, others to pull us toward destruction. If you’re weak, this place will break you. The strong harden themselves and impose their will, yet even the disciplined are not immune. They, too, can fall prey to addiction and desire. We lose ourselves yet we discover who we are.

Our parents kept repeating the same things “focus, go to school, face your books, stay on track” and for a long time, it sounded like noise to us, it felt like repetition without understanding. We thought they were out of touch, too rigid, too removed from the world we were trying to navigate. But they weren’t speaking from theory, they were speaking from consequence. They had seen how quickly things can slip, how small distractions become long detours. A mistake, a poor result, and suddenly, doors close. It’s staggering, so much of what they said was true, though we mocked it, though we shrugged it off. What felt like control to us was, to them, caution shaped by experience. They understood something we didn’t yet, that in environments like our universities, where freedom comes suddenly and structure fades, discipline is no longer enforced, it is chosen. And that choice is harder than it looks when everything around you is pulling for your attention.

We become travelers of a nation that promises much but holds us at a distance, we wrestle with a job market that is a tangled, built on a fragile economy where dreams are often left to wither.

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After university, the world does not ease you in, it confronts you. Years of delays, strikes, lockdowns, and pandemic disruptions have stretched time until school becomes your only reality. When you graduate, you can hardly remember a life outside those walls. You leave with more than a degree. You step into the world with scars from the traumas of youth, you carry the weight of delays, the frustration of a system that did not always give its best, and the resilience built from surviving it anyway. You also carry lessons that were never written into any curriculum ~ how to endure uncertainty, how to adapt, how to keep going without clarity. But beyond all of that, there is a truth many of us ignored while we were inside it, even with all these flaws, school still mattered.

It was meant to shape us, to give us a craft, so we could step into society prepared. You were meant to actually learn, even the sufferings were lessons. You were meant to build something, to consume knowledge, improve social skills, or discipline that could hold you steady when structure disappears. School was the training ground.

This is true whether you dreamed of entrepreneurship or simply aimed for a steady career in the formal working class. For those on a conventional route, your grades became your first test. A second class upper is not an advantage but a requirement. If you graduated with anything less, your chances were drastically reduced. Without connections, without someone to open a door, you had to fight a much narrower margin. The statistics are staggering. Even now, I’m not sure how accurate they are, but the odds feel impossibly small. Luckily, I paid attention in school and my grades thank me for it.

Even with strong grades, it is not straightforward. Job hunting will drain you. You apply again and again. Roles labeled “entry-level” ask for experience you were never given the chance to gain. You rewrite your CV, adjust your approach, wait for responses that often never come. It becomes a cycle: effort, silence, repetition. And in that silence, doubt begins to form. It’s not always loud, but slowly questioning whether you did enough, whether any of it was enough.

But something else forms too, if you stay with it. A different kind of awareness. You begin to understand how the system works, not in theory, but in practice. You learn to position yourself, to seek opportunities, to keep showing up even when the outcome is uncertain. The process strips away assumptions. It forces you to confront yourself, your patience, your consistency, your willingness to keep moving without immediate reward.

There are small victories along the way like a response to an application, or an interview invitation. A moment where preparation meets opportunity, even briefly. They don’t solve everything, but they remind you that movement is happening, even if it feels slow.

This stage is not as clear or structured as we were led to believe. There is no smooth transition, no guarantee that effort will immediately translate into results. It is a period of adjustment, of learning how to exist outside a system that once defined you. You begin to understand that your education was only one part of the equation, and that the rest depends on how you adapt, how you persist, and how you continue to move forward without certainty.

There is another path, less defined, less forgiven. It belongs to those who look at the usual sequence and feel something in them resist it. Not out of arrogance, but out of awareness. They can see the limits of that path, how it narrows over time, how it asks for patience without always giving return. This rebellion doesn’t announce itself, it shows up in young people who follow the expected path, school, graduation, the search for a job, but carry something unsettled inside them. And it’s not dissatisfaction exactly, but a sense that what is laid out is not enough. They understand the system because they grew up inside it, but they are not fully convinced by it. For them, a degree is not a destination. At best, it’s a tool and at worst, a delay.

To be young here is to come of age with awareness. If you’re born without privilege, you don’t grow up insulated. You see how things work early, how effort does not always lead to reward, how connections can outweigh competence, how systems meant to support you sometimes leave you to figure things out alone. Childhood teaches you adjustment before it teaches you comfort. You learn to read situations, to manage expectations, to carry responsibility before you fully understand it. By the time you begin to think seriously about your future, you are already negotiating with reality.

For those who choose to build something of their own, whether in business, in creative work, or in ideas, the challenge is not just starting. It is sustaining belief over time. There is no structure holding you in place, no external validation confirming that you are on the right path. You are working toward outcomes that have no guarantee, in an environment that does not easily absorb risk. Progress is slow and often invisible. You can spend long periods questioning whether you are moving forward at all. Still, you are required to be resourceful before you are even allowed to be excellent. And while others are climbing structured ladders, you are trying to build one without the materials.

And yet, stepping away completely is rarely an option. Many of us still exist between both worlds. We take corporate roles not out of devotion, but out of necessity. A job becomes a means of survival, something to fund the vision, to create stability where the dream cannot yet sustain itself. So you exist in two spaces at once. One part shows up daily, meeting expectations, playing within the rules. The other part stays awake at night, building something that may or may not work, but feels too important to abandon. This beautiful tension comes from living two lives at once, neither of them fully complete.

Adulthood, on this side, arrives differently. It’s not marked by a clear transition or a stable identity. It’s more like a constant negotiation between survival and purpose. You begin to understand that ambition alone is not enough, it must be supported by consistency, by patience, by a willingness to endure long periods of invisibility.

At some point, you stop romanticising the process. You see it for what it is: uneven, slow, and often indifferent to effort. In a place where systems don’t reliably support growth, people are forced into extremes. Some become disciplined out of necessity, others become hardened by disappointment. Some grow honest and deliberate through struggle, while others bend their values just to stay afloat. Survival reshapes people in ways they don’t always notice until much later.

Building from zero is not a metaphor here. It is a lived condition. It is waking up and calculating everything. Calculating transport, food, rent, opportunity and timing, before you even begin to think about dreams. It is trying to become someone while also trying not to fall behind. So you carry the weight of both ambition and responsibility at the same time. In your twenties especially, that weight can feel confusing, almost disorienting. You are no longer a child, but you are not yet the stable adult you hoped for. You are trying to define yourself while also trying to survive financially and emotionally in an environment that rarely pauses for you. You move, but not always with certainty. You act, but not always with understanding.

The country does not stop to explain itself to you. It does not slow down for confusion. It gives you ambition, but not always structure. Effort, but not always reward. Talent, but not always access. So you learn, often painfully, that you are responsible for filling in the gaps. Not just in your skills, but in your direction, your discipline, your interpretation of what is even worth pursuing.

As the growth occurs, you’ll be compelled to think differently. You become more deliberate with your time, taking responsibility for your actions and orientations. You stop waiting for perfect conditions and start working with what is available. You also begin to see the system more clearly. Not as a single structure designed with intention, but as a network of limitations that, over time, keep people in predictable cycles. It rewards compliance because compliance is easier to manage. It slows down those who try to move differently, not always by force, but by resistance, by making everything harder than it needs to be.

And still, there are those who persist.

They come from places where the odds were never in their favor. Where exposure was limited, where resources were scarce, and expectation was low. Yet something in them refuses to settle. They search for knowledge, for opportunity, for any leverage they can find. They try, fail, adjust, and try again. Over time, something changes and it’s not necessarily their circumstances at first, but their capacity. They get better, not just in skill, but in judgment. Becoming more aware, more intentional, and less dependent on external direction.

Even with this newly found strength, there are still setbacks and delays. But they don’t carry the same weight anymore, because you’ve seen yourself adapt before. You’ve built that evidence. You know you can adjust, refine, and keep going. If you persist you will succeed.

There is no clean resolution to this. No moment where everything suddenly aligns and makes sense. To be young here, to grow within this environment is to live with that tension, understanding the weight of your starting point while still choosing, repeatedly, to move beyond it. That’s the difference. It’s not luck or shortcuts, just a sustained ability to stay aware, to keep learning, and to act when the moment presents itself. Because opportunities do exist, even here. They are not always obvious and they are not always easy to access, but they are there.

And for the ones who keep paying attention, who keep building, who refuse to drift even when things are slow, progress becomes inevitable. Its not overnight, not all at once, but in a way that compounds.

You begin to realise that the point was never to escape the struggle, but to outgrow what it once made of you. And in doing so, you don’t just arrive at success but you become the kind of person who can recognize it when it finally stands in front of you.

The Nigeria of my dreams is slowly turning to a nightmare, but I’ll keep dreaming until it’s beautiful again. 🇳🇬

At 2:00 AM, when your phone is down to its last glow of light, everything feels suspended in purgatory. At 5% battery, my device is a metaphor for the human frame….drained, flickering, yet stubbornly clinging to a signal. Sleep is a distant shore I cannot seem to reach. I’m lying here, watching a movie but I couldn't tell you a single thing that’s happened in the last twenty minutes, my head is somewhere else entirely. My mind, unmoored from the distractions of the day, drifts through the wreckage and riches of random memories. I had planned to open this with something grand, a poetic hook to ensnare the reader but the late-night silence has a way of stripping away pretension.

Words of affirmation roam my thoughts, persistent enough to influence my concept of self. I’ve taken a back seat to observe not just my awareness, but the whole arc of my existence. And in this trip of enlightenment in search of meaning, I found the exquisite nature of my being buried under layers of who I thought I was supposed to be.

For along time, I spoke of the future in the subjunctive “if I become, when I have”. But from this vantage point, I see that I am no longer in the waiting room. I’m currently living in a manifested timeline. There is no other way to describe it. The events happening right now are too convenient, too precisely aligned to be accidental. I look down at my hands and realize they are finally holding the reality I used to have to close my eyes to see. Almost every scenario I’m walking through right now was molded from imagination and manifested into my reality.

Adulthood is often sold to us as a slow decay, a series of taxes, traumas, and compromises. On the surface, that holds true, I’ve had days that felt like they were designed to crush me. Days so painfully slow they threaten to eat away your optimism. But in the marrow of my bones, beneath the stress and logistics, I cannot deny that I am living my best life. It wasn't handed to me, I didn't get lucky. I forced this reality into existence through sheer willpower and a refusal to let go of my free will.

I’ve learned to romanticize my life, especially the little moments. I take a tiny piece of my everyday and turn it into an aesthetic moment. If I’m the director of my own reality then that means I have a moral obligation to add character, flavor and style to my story. I can flex my charisma to the beauty stranger on the road and take on side quest as a routine in my life mission.

I’ve come to suspect that life isn’t inherently hard. We’ve just been conditioned to believe that it’s a battleground. We navigate our years through the lens of trauma, assigning meaning to unpurposeful things. We have learned to be "serious" because we think seriousness equates to importance. But things aren't meant to be serious, they are just meant to exist. The "good" or the "bad" is merely the ink provided by the observer. I’ve been blessed with the awareness of a divine observer, this part of the soul sits above the fray, labeling every experience, even the jagged ones as "Good." By doing so, I bend the spectrum of my destiny toward abundance. Dwelling in the design God intended, where reality is not happening to me, but for me.

For nearly a decade, I have carried a conviction that life is less about brilliance and more about the refusal to stop. This is best articulated in Og Mandino’s third scroll, a text that serves as the blueprint for the human spirit’s capacity to endure. Mandino writes:

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This persistence is not merely a test of stamina but a profound participation in the laws of physics. When Mandino talks about the "mighty oak," he is describing the resistance of the physical world to the human will. But the secret I’ve discovered in the quiet of this room is that the wood eventually yields because the spirit is more consistent than the matter it acts upon.

In finance, compounding is the “eighth wonder of the world,” but in consciousness, it is the mechanism of miracles. We overestimate what we can do in a day, but we wildly underestimate what we can manifest in a decade of “childish swipes.” This is the Theory of Intentional Compounding which says your reality is the sum total of the labels you have assigned to your experiences over time.

If you label a setback as “failure,” you stop swinging the blade. If you label it as a “detour,” you sharpen the edge. Over ten years, that difference in labeling creates two entirely different universes. One where you are a victim of the desert, and one where you have reached the green grass.

We look at the “mighty oak” of our ambitions and feel small, but we forget that the oak is bound by the laws of time, while the human spirit is bound only by its own limits. Mandino’s secret of “one more attempt” is where the magic actually happens. Most people stop exactly when the struggle begins, they cease their labor at a “prescribed time” because that is what society expects of a “reasonable” person. But the lion moves when the sheep sleep.

When my thoughts beckon my tired body toward the ease of complacency, and I choose to take that one extra step, to write one more line, to send one more email, to hold one more vision, I am planting a seed in a field that everyone else has abandoned. That is where the "insurmountable advantage" comes from. It’s not about being faster or smarter, but being the last one standing at the oak.

When we are young, we want the map. We want someone to tell us exactly how many steps the journey takes. But the “awakened” person understands that the map is a lie. The only thing that is real is the next step. Adulthood is navigating a world where the goalposts often move and the rules are rarely explained. We attach gravity to the “serious” things like the career titles, the social standing, but those are the very things that disappear when the phone hits 0%.

What remains is the self-concept. The way you talk to yourself when no one is watching. The way you “romanticize” a lonely walk or a difficult task. This is the ultimate “side quest”, finding the aesthetic beauty in the struggle itself. If you can find the “flavor” in a hard day, the hard day loses its power to crush you. It just becomes another scene in a movie you’ve already directed.

We navigate uncertainty not by knowing what is coming, but by knowing who is coming. When I say I am the director of my own reality, I am stating that my self-concept is the only constant in an unpredictable world. Whether the scene is a tragedy or a comedy, I am the one holding the camera, the one choosing the color grade. This is the “side quest” philosophy, where even the mundane struggles are rebranded as necessary development for the main character.

In gaming, a side quest is where you gain the XP (experience points) necessary to face the boss. In life, the side quest is the charisma you show to a stranger that leads to something interesting, the aesthetic way you plate your dinner when you’re alone, spontaneous indulgence or the “one more attempt” you make when your body is screaming for the bed. These aren’t distractions, think of it as training grounds for your sovereignty. You are building the “lion” one small, intentional act at a time.

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The secret to this existence, the one they don’t teach in school is that the struggle doesn’t have to be traumatic. We can “work on in despair” without letting the despair become our identity. We can toil without being slaves to the toil.

Most people are “sheep” because they allow the environment to observe them. They let the hard days define their identity. But when you take the back seat of awareness, you reverse the flow. You observe the day, you label the struggle, and by doing so, you dictate its meaning. You are no longer a victim of the “nay”, you are the one who determines that every “nay” is actually a structural support for the “yea” that is currently being built in the invisible.

A lion in the wild persists because it is hungry, it’s a biological drive. But a human persists because they have a vision. We are the only ones who can plant the seed of tomorrow’s success in the middle of tonight’s exhaustion.

I am an exquisite being, not because of what I’ve achieved, but because of what I’ve persisted through. I’ve learned that the desert doesn’t last forever, but the strength you gain from walking through it does. The “green grass” is not a place you arrive at, it’s something that starts growing under your feet the moment you decide you’re not going to stop walking.

The “if” and the “when” have been cremated in the heat of this late-night realization. I am no longer bargaining with my destiny, I am dictating it. This documentation of my awareness is not a diary of what has happened, but a blueprint of what I am making happen. I have stepped out of the crowd of the “sheep” who believe life is a series of accidents, and I’ve taken my seat as the one who holds the pen.

My phone screen finally goes black. The 5% is gone. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need the digital glow to see where I’m going anymore.

Tomorrow, the sun will rise on a best life that I demanded from the universe through the sheer arrogance of my persistence. The desert is behind me. The grass is beneath my feet. And as long as there is breath in me, the lion will not sleep, he will simply wait for the next sun to prove, once again, that the harvest is already his.

I will persist until I succeed .

The events following the death of my anxiety have been some of the most memorable, perception-altering moments of my life. It’s a strange thing to realize a part of you has died, but the clarity that follows after the mourning is ponderous.

Today, I finally embodied the confidence I’ve always known I had, that admirable charisma that fuels my aura. Honestly, what a privilege it is to be a confident man, to not cower in the face of the unfamiliar. To look into bold and timid eyes alike without that tiny, nagging tremble in your chest.

I gave a presentation at work and it felt like a final closing argument in a long court case. For the longest time, I wondered if my self-concept was just a high-end delusion I was using to fuel my ego. But that day, the theory was proven. It was a beautiful presentation and I wasn’t just “performing,” I was consumed with this raw courage.

The weekend before the Monday, I got a clean haircut, and on said Monday I dressed to kill. I wore an all-black outfit with these intricate patterns of green, cream and white styled at the bottom of my sleeves and along one side of my shirt. Multiple black rings on my fingers. My shoes were very shiny, patent leather, polished so clean you could almost see your reflection in the toe.

They say your brain is constantly reading signals and you’re one of the signals it reads the most. When you dress well or get a sharp cut, a few things happen at once.

First, self-perception kicks in. We don’t only think our way into confidence, we observe ourselves and draw conclusions like an outsider would. When you see yourself looking put-together, your mind tells a story that you’re someone who has things under control and that little story softly shapes how you move, how you speak, and how much space you’re willing to take up in a room.

Then, there’s the fact that order reduces friction. A clean haircut, well-fitting clothes and good grooming remove small sources of distraction and self-consciousness. You’re not managing discomfort or second-guessing how you’re perceived, so your attention is freed up. There’s less internal noise making you feel steadier.

It’s also a form of self-respect made visible. Taking care of your appearance is a signal to yourself that you’re worth the effort. Humans are deeply responsive to rituals, and grooming is one of the oldest ones we have. It marks a transition from passive to intentional, like you didn’t just show up, you prepared.

The fourth reason is social feedback loops actually matter. Even subtle changes in how people look at you, respond to you, or take you seriously get picked up by your nervous system. You stand straighter because you’re being met differently and that external feedback reinforces the internal shift.

But the deepest reason is this,
Dressing well doesn’t create confidence, it removes reasons to doubt yourself. It aligns your inner sense of readiness with an outer signal of order and intention. When those two match, you feel coherent. And coherence feels like confidence.

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Standing in a room full of people, I realized I’m so in love with the sound of my voice. I love listening to myself speak. When I talk slowly and coordinate my tempo, I sound majestic, almost seductive even. I was commanding the room because I had already commanded myself.

But in the early hours of the day, moments before the presentation, my heart rate spiked, it was a familiar feeling. I had a visit from an old friend, a dead old friend. His name was anxiety.

The thing is, this old friend had been gone so long he forgot that the version of me he tormented died the same day he did. It was a brief, intense debate between my awareness of self and my brain trying to fall for the trickery of a forgotten ghost.

I was aware of the subtle anxiety, the one that tightened my chest and made breathing hard. But I was also aware that it was a mirage, literally just electricity in my head. I took minutes to do breathwork, just like I used to practice all those years ago. I’d almost forgotten the love-hate relationship I had with this toxic persona. It felt like being alive in the moment, the thrill that came from a palpitating heart, having every nerve and muscle in my body tense up was actually weirdly exhilarating.

But on the other side of that tension was the man who had done the work. I knew with an unshakeable certainty that there was no way I could flop. I had practiced over and over again that those words on paper could be said from memory.

Truly, confidence comes from doing more. The more you do something, the more confident you become in it. There was no room for doubt or insecurity because I had already provided the evidence of work to the master detective and judge, my brain.

Confidence comes from evidence, it’s not a personality trait but a memory. It’s built from accumulated moments where you acted without certainty and learned that the world didn’t end. Doing more gives you proof that you can handle things, it’s not really about chasing volume. At it’s core, it’s about exposing yourself to reality often enough that fear loses it’s authority. Each attempt leaves behind evidence. You can make mistakes, recover and continue. Over time, that evidence rewires doubt into trust.

The repetition slowly and quietly teaches your nervous system “I’ve been here before, and I survived.” Confidence, then is not a loud, boastful belief in yourself but a familiarity with effort, failure and survival.

When I finally stepped up to that stage, it was not just a performance like my anxiety led me to believe. It was a homecoming! I looked out at the room and didn't see a firing squad, just a collection of people waiting to be led and for once, I was the one doing the leading. Every slide I flipped, every deliberate pause I took, felt like a victory lap for the man who used to breathe through a straw of panic.

I think my colleagues have me pegged as the "quiet guy”, but they’re misreading the silence, they mistake my observation for hesitation. So, it wasn't just that the presentation went well, it was the way the energy in the room shifted the second I finished, like everyone there collectively realized the gravity of what just happened. People don’t just applaud the data, they applaud the conviction behind it. Walking out of that office, I realized the most meaningful takeaway wasn't the handshakes or "good job" texts hitting my inbox, it was the steady hum of my own nervous system.

I looked that old ghost in the face, showed him the evidence of the work I’d put in, and watched him evaporate. I’m not just white-knuckling my way through the day or waiting for it to be over, I’m actually inhabiting my life. And man, the view from here is incredible.

Look, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the dark side of self-help. You know that feeling when you finally "find yourself"? You spend years building up your self-worth, reading the books, doing the shadow work, setting the boundaries, and deciding what you will and won't tolerate. It’s been said that "knowing your worth" is the ultimate destination of personal growth. We treat it like a shield, a way to protect ourselves from being undervalued. It feels great on the inside, but the external optics are…..complicated.

I think knowing your worth comes with a certain amount of arrogance. I was not fully aware of it in myself until recently. There’s this weird, almost delusional confidence of self-importance that doesn’t always reflect the best of intentions to others.

See, when you start carrying yourself with genuine high regard, you’re not just changing your own life but inadvertently holding up a mirror to everyone else. Your progress, your boundaries, and that calm confidence you’ve worked so hard for, it doesn't always inspire people. Sometimes, it just highlights everything they haven't dealt with yet. They see the work you’ve done, and instead of being motivated, they feel secretly intimidated. They see your growth as a silent indictment of their own stagnation.

It’s a weird realization to have. Your "light" can actually make people feel quite small, it’s almost like you’re accidentally casting a shadow on someone else’s unhealed stuff. And that's when the resentment starts to simmer. Because you’ve cultivated this reality where you know exactly what you’re worth, you subconsciously expect them to see it too. You expect them to meet you at that frequency. But the truth is, most people are still vibrating at a much lower level of self-awareness. The reality check is usually pretty jarring, a lot of people are still in the thick of it. They don’t know their worth, and they certainly don’t treat themselves with much regard. They’re just trying to make it through the Tuesday afternoon meeting without losing their minds.

So, when I walk in with my high expectations, from their perspective, it’s just pure arrogance. I’m expecting them to give more to me than they’re even capable of giving to themselves. It’s like asking someone for twenty dollars when they only have five in the bank.

This disconnect becomes most dangerous when we feel the need to correct others. You see them tripping over the same hurdles you already cleared, it’s painful watching them carry unnecessary emotional pain from the world or ignorance from their actions. And because you feel "awake," you feel this pull to help them. You want to pull them up to where you are.

That’s where the temptation to "fix" things kicks in.

Think about it like a relational bank account. Every time you interact with someone, your boss, your partner, your friend. You’re either making a deposit or a withdrawal.

Say your boss says something objectively stupid in a meeting. Or your friend does something that makes zero logical sense. You’re right. You know you’re right, you have the "correct" answer sitting right on the tip of your tongue. But no matter how right you are, correcting another person has a cost. It’s usually an invisible one, but if you look closely, you can see it. You’ll see it in their eyes for a split second, a little flash of defensiveness, subtle pull back or a dimming of their energy.

In that moment, you’re making a withdrawal.

You’re not just "helping" them but asserting your reality over theirs. And if they’re not in a place where they can regulate their own ego or take accountability, that correction feels like an attack. You might win the point, but the relationship takes a hit.

I’ve had to ask myself, is it worth it? Sure, the thing my boss said was dumb. Yeah, what my friend did made zero sense. But is correcting them worth the five percent of the relationship I’m about to burn?

Because it’s not free. It never is.

And sometimes, we do it way too often just to feed our own ego, to prove that our "high self-regard" is justified. We’re so busy being the smartest person in the room that we don’t realize we’re bankrupting our connections.

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But, and this is the part that keeps the “awakening” from becoming a trap. There is also a massive cost for not correcting them. If you never correct the behavior, if you never speak up when someone crosses a line or does something nonsensical, if you stay silent just to avoid the withdrawal, you’re the one paying the tax. You’re paying it in resentment, you’re paying it by slowly chipping away at your own integrity, biting your tongue until it bleeds, watching things go wrong because you’re afraid to be the "disdainful" one. You’re letting the relationship become a place where your own sense of sense goes to die just to keep them comfortable.

So, where does that leave us?

I think it leaves us in this space of radical discernment. You realize that your aura, your progress, and your worth are yours to keep, they’re not tools to beat people over the head with. You can’t force people to see their own value or yours. It’s a balancing act that most of us are failing. We’re either arrogant, demanding that everyone meet our high-frequency self-worth, or we’re "nice," letting our bank accounts hit zero while we quietly resent the people we love.

The real “awakening,” if you even want to call it that, is just realizing that every word has a price tag. I’ve started being a lot more stingy with my corrections. I’m learning that my worth doesn’t actually decrease just because I let someone else be wrong.

Actually, the more you know what you’re worth, the less you feel the need to prove it by making someone else feel small. It’s having enough in your own “account” to let some things slide, you don’t need to "win" every interaction. You realize that most people are operating from a place of deficit. They’re not trying to disrespect your worth, they just don't have the currency to honor it yet. Stop expecting people to conform to your reality and just start observing theirs. It’s a lot quieter that way and a lot less expensive, too.

So, you have to decide. When do you speak up and pay the tax because the truth is vital? And when do you just let the “dumb” comment slide because the relationship is worth more than the correction?

There’s no manual for this. You just have to start watching people’s eyes. You have to start feeling the weight of your own words, because being right is a lonely place to live if you’ve bankrupt everyone around you to get there.

It is a staggering thought, that God is large enough to hide a total redirection in the pocket of a stranger. Tomorrow, I might be walking down a street I’ve seen a thousand times, only to have a random encounter tear a hole in the ordinary. In the space of a breath, the ‘someday’ I’ve been chasing catches up to me. I look down at my hands and realize they are finally holding the reality I used to have to close my eyes to see.

If I were a believer,

If I had that wishful thinking side in me, that unyielding positivity,

If I were a man of faith,

I’d tell you that on my way to work tomorrow, I’ll stumble into an Asherkine kind of human on the road.

He’ll stop me randomly, and I won’t care if it’s a social experiment or if a dozen cameras are crowded into my face. I’ll just wear the wildest smile. To the crew, I might just be another stranger for a performative content or maybe a genuine outreach. But in my head, I’ll be thrilled because without a doubt, I’ll know that I’ve just shifted into a manifested timeline.

I’ll be fully aware that I’ve finally aligned with the frequency of favour. They’ll think it’s random but “random” is not the word I’ll use to describe a perfectly curated timeline, a thoughtfully designed reality, a product of my manifestations.

They’d be witnessing the exact moment preparation met opportunity and be privileged to observe an embodiment of my self-concept.

If I were a believer,

I’ll tell you that the only reason why these vivid scenarios of unexpected favour dominate my thoughts is because there’s a version of me who has already attained these desires, that version of me lives in the center of abundance with possession of the Greatness I long for. And this longing I feel is my subconscious trying to bridge the gap between our two realities.

What if I crave these desires because they’re mine already and the only thing left is alignment. Maybe that unwavering concept of self worth is because your “self” actually worth something. If you must overthink, at least overthink the positive things.

“You will attract more money than you can spend and it will not surprise you.

It will not confuse you, it will not intimidate you.

Because it will be the result of something greater than effort, greater than education.

It will be the result of law.

Money does not come to the busy,

it does not come to the needy.

It does not even come to the deserving.

Money comes to the man who has trained his mind to expect it,

every hour, everyday without an apology,

without contradiction and without fail.

The man who is poor in wallet is first poor in thought,

but the man who is rich in mind cannot stay broke for long.

This is not mere hope,

this is not wishful thinking.

This is spiritual law,

immutable, invisible and available to you if you listen like your life depends on it.

Because in a way it does.”

- Jim Rohn

Wealth grows where men exert energy.

The heart attracts what it expects and he that seeketh findeth. This is The Law of Attraction

God designed us for abundance, to thrive, to build, and to breathe our own realities into existence. But somewhere along the way, we evolved and developed a kind of spiritual amnesia. We’ve become so grounded in the logic of the world that we’ve forgotten the power of our own origin, we’ve traded our divine inheritance for a life that is merely manageable.

A perfectly pure and enlightened being cannot suffer.

If I were a believer,

I’d meet this God sent philanthropist with goals and plans crafted in secret brought into light to be observed, influenced and fed energy. I’ll show this destiny helper dreams that require funding, purpose so potent that it would purposefully alter the course of my life forever.

Non-believers will say this is unrealistic, “manifestation doesn’t work, you can’t well-wish yourself into a successful life.”

But I say unto them,

“my dear, there’s proof! Undeniable proof of grace and favour.”

It is so profound that even the digital world captures it, a few scrolls and you’ll see videos of strangers meeting their destiny helpers in real time.

The MrBeast(s) of this world exist, and the mere fact that it has happened to others is all the relief I need knowing it can happen to me too.

Share Aura unwritten

I think we have dangerously underestimated the magnitude of God. You cannot claim a Great God and then accept a life of mediocrity, you cannot look at a Creator that vast and then settle for a small life without imagination. That is a contradiction and those two beliefs cannot live in the same heart.

As long as God is great then even if you thought you were flawed and useless, it’s enough reasons to dance naked in the marketplace, stripped of shame and filled with wild, holy joy. Knowing that a Great God is incapable of being anything less than Great. If you thought you were a flaw and God made you, then you are the greatest flaw to ever walk this earth.

“For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength” - 1 Corinthians 1:25

You are beautifully and wonderfully made, God is too great, too artistic and too divine to make something ordinary.

If I were a believer,

I’ll tell you without a shadow of doubt, that nothing is impossible. You truly can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.

The highest version of yourself, that person you so deeply desire to be is not a distant dream but a reality running parallel to this one, right now.

So, once you make up your mind to shift, you don’t wait for a bridge to be built, you simply step into a reality that is already in motion. It’s a beautiful irony when people say, ‘God will do it soon.’ I say, No. It is already done.

You just have to shift to a timeline where it’s already happening and unfolding in your reality. You need to shift your mindset and your habits to align with the version of yourself that is living that life already. The inner work, the shedding of the old self to embody the new, is the only distance left to travel.

Manifest from identity, not fantasy.

Shifting realities requires the grit of actual work. The version of yourself who has everything you want doesn’t just exist, he moves, speaks, and carries himself with a defined intent.

If you desire a more articulate, intelligent version of yourself, you have to start consuming the books he reads and absorbing the ideas and podcast he listens to. You dress for the life he leads, you even begin to navigate conversations with the poise you know he carries. By doing this, you are evolving and closing the gap until your current identity matches your destination.

It is a simple law of nature, if you inhabit the habits, the speech, and the stride of that man, then you have already become him.

Faith it, till you make it.

You’re not just living in a world but actively broadcasting to it. Think of yourself as a radio station, if you want to hear jazz, you can’t stay tuned to a frequency that only plays the blues.

When people talk of manifestation, it sounds airy-fairy, but when you look at it through the lens of quantum physics, it’s actually just high-level “reality tuning.”

In the world of the very small, the quantum level, nothing is solid until it’s observed. This is the Observer Effect.

Right now, there’s not just one “you.” There is a version of you that is a CEO, a version that is a traveler, and a version that is still stuck. In physics, these exist as a “probability wave”

When you focus your intention (this is the key) and align your emotions with a specific outcome, you are essentially “observing” that version of reality into existence. You’re forcing the messy wave of possibilities to snap into a solid particle.

Every choice you make and every belief you hold puts you on a specific “timeline.” If you want to shift timelines to the “Desired Version” of you, you can’t wait for the world to change first. You have to change your electromagnetic signature now.

Your thoughts send the signal out into the quantum field and your emotions draw the experience to you.

If you think “I am wealthy” but feel “I am broke,” the signal is garbled. The universe doesn’t give you what you want, it reflects back who you are at a cellular level.

To “jump,” you have to feel the gratitude for the win before the win happens. You’re essentially tricking your nervous system into believing the future is already the present. When your internal energy matches the energy of the timeline you want, the “jump” happens naturally.

I wrote a piece on Neuroplasticity, about how the brain is not a rigid machine but a muscle that requires intentional strengthening.

The Perspective Lab

Day 19: Neuroplasticity

For the longest time, we’ve been told a rather bleak story about our brains. The prevailing wisdom suggested that after childhood, the physical structure of our minds became fixed. We believed that by the time we hit twenty-five, the wet cement had dried, leaving us stuck with whatever habits, traumas, and limitations we had accumulated. If you were an …

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4 months ago · 6 likes · 3 comments · Alex Jacks

The beauty of this digital age is the sheer volume of documented human experience at our fingertips. With a single prompt or a swift google search, you can access theories that stretch the very boundaries of your mind. I recently came across a perspective so insightful it forced me to pause and reflect. The content creator explained that Neuroplasticity is a God designed spiritual law and faith, they suggested, is simply neuroplasticity operating in its highest, spiritual form.

From science, faith is repeated, intentional thoughts that rewire the nervous system toward a desired outcome.

Biblically, faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not yet seen. ~Hebrews 11:1

So, when you keep hoping and believing, it’s not just a fleeting thought anymore, your neurons are literally wiring themselves to accept these possibilities as present facts.

Again, it’s repeated, intentional thoughts that rewire the nervous system toward a desired outcome. So when you believe you have received it, the brain undergoes a transformation.

It begins to carve out neural pathways that mirror your desired future, making the impossible feel familiar. It fine-tunes your Reticular Activating System, turning it into a scout that scans the world for the very opportunities you used to miss. Even your emotional chemistry shifts, and suddenly, your behaviors begin to realign on their own, effortlessly steering your choices and actions toward the life you have already claimed.

This is Neuroplasticity, the brain physically reshaping itself around whatever you repeatedly think.

Assumption that is persistent will harden into fact. That is why it doesn’t matter that you don’t believe it at first, the more that you persist in your assumption, the more you realize that it is already in your reality.

The bible has been telling us this long before, they understood the science perspective.

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.
- Romans 12:2

“Think those things that are not as though they are”

We hear these scriptures, and we believe them but without seeing it from a scientific perspective, we often struggle to inhabit them. This is the heart of neuroplasticity. If you don’t understand the mechanics of the mind, the biblical promise can feel like an abstract mystery rather than a practical tool.

To truly walk in the spirit, we have to unlearn, relearn and understand not only what we are but who we are and how we are. Understanding your biology is important to your faith. When we understand how our brains are designed to shift, we finally learn how to actually reach out and take hold of the promises God has already placed within our reach.

From the very beginning, the Word has been clear, we were created in His image and likeness. That truth is weightier and more staggering than anything I can wrap my mind around. But to truly live it, you have to discover exactly what ‘image’ He’s referring to and that is where the Spirit steps in, sharpening your discernment to see beyond the mirror.

When He says, ‘If you believe, you will receive,’ or ‘Call those things that are not as though they were,’ He is not just offering poetic encouragement. He is revealing a law of existence, He is telling you that you carry the same creative DNA as your Father.

“...God, who gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did.” ~ Romans 4:17

It means that you, and you alone, have been given the authority to shape the reality you walk in.”

I THINK THEREFORE I AM.

Your mind wants to prove itself right, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Whatever you expect, you’ll naturally find evidence to confirm it.

This is where the biology of the brain meets the breath of the Spirit. If the mind is a machine built to prove itself right, then our greatest act of faith is giving it a better truth to confirm. If it’s a mirror that can only reflect what we expect to see, then our highest calling is to tilt that mirror toward the Light. We are not just waiting for a miracle to drop from the sky but reconfiguring our very selves to become the landing strip for it.

Even money vibrates on the same frequency as authenticity and self love.

Philippians 4:8

“Finally, brothers and sisters,

whatever is true,

whatever is noble,

whatever is right,

whatever is pure,

whatever is lovely,

whatever is admirable

if anything is excellent or praiseworthy,

think about such things.

It’s not enough to just ‘wish’ for the stranger on the street or the sudden shift in the timeline. You have to become the person who is neurologically prepared to recognize them when they arrive. You have to train your eyes to scan the horizon for the favor that the world dismisses as ‘luck.’

It is a deliberate, daily habit of aligning your frequency with the vastness of your Creator. It is teaching your neurons to fire in the rhythm of your future rather than the echoes of your past. Because when you finally stop fighting your design and start inhabiting it, the distance between the prayer and the possession begins to dissolve.

We are the only creatures tasked with the terrifying, beautiful duty of being the editors of our own reality. We were never meant to be passive observers of a world that happens to us, the authority you carry is not a magic wand. It is a conscious, stubborn choice to believe that the ‘image’ you were created in is not a static reflection, but an active creative force.

So, tomorrow, step onto that pavement with dangerous expectation. Don’t just look at the street, look through it. Your mind is already out there, searching for proof of what you believe. Give it something glorious to find. Walk as if the God sent stranger is already turning the corner, walk as if the timeline has already shifted. Because in the heart of God, it already has and your only job is to finally arrive.

“You will also declare a thing, and it will be established for you, so light will shine on your ways.” ~ Job 22:28

Your self-concept is the thermostat of your life. You can open all the windows of “positive thinking” you want, but if your internal identity is set to “lack,” your reality will eventually drop back down to that temperature.

Think of your self-concept as the ‘Operating System’ for your brain. It is the collection of every belief, perception, and experience you’ve ever had, distilled into a single identity card. This card tells your mind which evidence to look for and which to ignore. It dictates everything from how you feel in your own skin to the magnitude of the dreams you dare to chase. It’s an identity card crafted from the stories you’ve told yourself and the reflections you’ve accepted as truth. It spans the physical ~ how you carry your shoulders in a crowded room ~ to the spiritual ~ the audacity of your prayers.

If your self-concept is rooted in lack, your neurobiology will work overtime to filter out opportunities, seeing only the walls. But when you shift your self-concept to align with your creative DNA, you stop trying to “get” greatness and start realizing you are “of” greatness. You no longer hope for a collision with favor, you expect it, because your internal identity has finally become a match for the abundance you seek. Your reality doesn’t change until your definition of yourself does, once the “I Am” is settled, the “I Have” becomes inevitable.

To manifest greatness is not to reach for something outside of yourself, but to expand your internal identity until it is large enough to hold the life you’ve been promised.

The universe doesn’t care about your suffering, only energy. Carefully applied energy. You do not attract what you want, you attract who you are.

Journaling is the laboratory where you test the weight of the person you are becoming. It’s not “dear diary” like people think, but where you sit with your own spirit and refuse to leave the table until you’ve drafted an identity card that actually fits the life you’re claiming.

In the world of neuroscience, this is where the abstract becomes architectural. When you move a pen across a page to describe your greatness, you’re not just ‘writing,’ you are engaging in a high-level cognitive hack called encoded processing. You are forcing your motor cortex, your vision, and your hand to coordinate on a single truth.

Unlike a fleeting thought, the physical act of writing signals to your brain that this specific information is high-priority. It forces your Reticular Activating System (RAS), the brain’s internal filter to stop scanning for your past failures and start hyper-focusing on the opportunities that match your new words. This is why writing helps you manifest faster, it provides the ‘spatial evidence’ the subconscious mind craves. You are literally carving new neural pathways with the tip of your pen, turning the blur of your potential into a documented truth. It is the first physical appointment you keep with your future self, proving to your nervous system that your transformation is not just a theory but a commitment you’ve already started to keep.

I keep a journal because I want to be remembered. I want someone to read my thoughts many years later and know the man behind them. I want to have an archive of notes, years of my writing stacked up on a hidden shelf. Memory is unreliable, especially when life gets fast-paced. On good days, we forget how hard the bad ones were and on bad days, we forget we’ve ever been okay.

I want to grow old and read about my life on a cozy morning, tea in one hand and a journal in the other. I want to flip those pages and experience my highs and lows again, pulling brain power to remember exactly how I felt in those moments. Seeing how much my mindset, my perspective changed and improved over the years. My personal documentation of self-awareness, within the pages, I uncover the man I am becoming, the emotions that dominated my being and the motivations behind my actions. The goals, desires and ambitions that found clarity and solace at the tip of my fingers and in the ink of my pen.

I want my children to read about my youth. Let them learn about my fears and insecurities, but most importantly, let them read about my victories.

Let them visualize my strengths, let my words guide them to trace the paths where my charisma led me, the heights my intelligence lifted me to. Let them understand my habits and see if they find reflections in their own.

Let them trace the exact moment I fell in love with myself and be seduced by my words to do the same. Let them meet the greatness my self-concept never questioned and understand the power I possess simply by believing in myself.

Dear child, know that nothing is impossible. You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you. Believe in yourself.

If there is ever a debate on whether or not God blessed man, let them call for me to testify of the goodness of the Lord. I am an evidence of greater things, a light set upon the world, a child held in divine favor. What a sweet feeling it is to live in my life, to experience the beautiful depths of my soul.

“What a privilege it is to be tired from the work that you once begged for.

What a privilege it is to be overwhelmed by the growth that you once dreamed of.

What a privilege it is to be challenged by a life you created.

What a privilege it is to outgrow things you used to settle for”

I write to document my journey, to keep track of not just progress but emotions. I want to remember what I felt, what philosophies I held dear, what secrets I hid.

In this chapter of my life, I am experiencing the world. And for whoever is reading this, I am a powerful being capable of great things. Someday in my nearest future, I’ll read these words with a heart full of gratitude, looking back at the man who promised himself a great life and kept that promise.

This is proof that manifestation is real. I’ll return to these pages and smile, knowing that every goal I carved into ink became a reality I now live. God’s favor spills over the limits of imagination, I am the solution to my generation.

“I will be successful,

I will put in so much fucking work that it will be unreasonable for me to fail.

Volume negates luck,

I will keep trying at this even if it kills me,

there is no plan B, it’s not over until I win”

Every day the world unfolds before me, and with its unfolding comes the echo of what I have always known, the unmistakable mark of my own exceptionality. The qualities I possess that feel “normal” and underplayed to me are actually the result of years of hard work that others struggle to attain. I have purpose on this earth, I feel the weight of greatness on my shoulders and the steady hand of God’s grace on my head.

Wealth is not always money, sometimes it’s an abundance of intelligence and heavenly favor. But my favorite definition of wealth is a loving mother.

In this life, the next, and any other that follows, I would never trade a woman as incredible as my mother for anything. Having a mother, I’ve experienced the purest, most reliable kind of love. Never has another human cared this deeply for me or believed in me this much.

A beautiful human made me, taught me, and raised me to be the Great man I am today.

I hope to experience and give out this same kind of love to my children. I wonder if they’ll love their father as much as they do their mother.

Dear Mom,

If you read this, I want you to know that I love you from the deepest parts of my heart, the very core of my soul. You are the greatest blessing I’ve ever known, and I thank God every day for you, my mother.

Because of you, I know that true love exists because I feel it for you. I would lay down my life if it meant your heart could know true joy, I’d kill for you if it meant I got to protect you.

Your sacrifices will never be in vain. God is granting you long life and good health to experience favor in this world and to behold the greatness of your children.

We might have come from nothing, but I am not leaving this world without a legacy. I won’t die until you’ve experienced the happiest, healthiest version of yourself alongside your children’s children’s children.

To my father,
Thank you. It was the help I never got that helped me the most.

Share Aura unwritten

In the end, the pen is the only tool you can trust with your words, the pages of the book yearns for your secrets, your aspirations and the restless thoughts that linger in your head.

You can never trust a woman with the weight of your reality, sharing is caring but truthfully many of these women don’t care and the times they do, they’re too shallow to fully grasp your reality. A problem half shared is not a problem half solved, you’re just “casting” yourself.

The more you share, you realize it’s never that deep. Just saying it out loud or pinning it to a page gives clarity in ways the listener could never give you.

Better to eat your problems than tell the wrong person.

Growing up, you realize why men get choked with toxic masculinity. We consume, compress and hoard all of these negative emotions until it either breaks us or we metamorphose into stronger men.

Do we give up? No. Are the trails of life enough to break you? definitely not. Is it that men’s mental health doesn’t matter? of course it does.

It just means that you need to be the friend you desire, to be your own anchor, your own therapist, body guard, older brother, rich parent and even master. You have to be all of these things to yourself first before seeking them from others.

The world is unkind to weak men, and it is with great joy that I write:

I, Alex Jacks, am no weak man. I am the strongest, bravest, most perspective-oriented man I know.

All you truly need is God and unwavering faith in yourself, everything you desire is already within you. Even money vibrates on the same frequency as authenticity and self love.

Audacity is the cost of entry!

Confidence and orientation will be your greatest asset in life. Do the work and do your best. Repetition is key. Taking action over and over strengthens your will. If you always do your best there’s no way you can judge yourself.

Friends can be untrustworthy, family can fall short too, I’ve seen all of these firsthand. The journey to greatness is often lonely and full of obstacles that might injure or slow you down before you find the strength to leap.

Be careful, because the scariest part about life is the people. People are really evil and wicked, they leave you broken and betrayed and a lot of times I don’t blame them because I too, have left others broken and betrayed.

Trust no one but yourself and God. Don’t even trust the pages of this journal because sometimes the book flirts with others and allow them to flip it over, scroll and swipe until all it’s contents are devoured. The evil in this world leaves you with almost zero option, but to cling unto God, because who else can save you from a dying, wicked world?

To be a man is to be born in a prison. A prison where you are both the warden, guard and prisoner. You imprison yourself yet only you hold the keys, you punish yourself yet you still look up to yourself to save yourself. In this prison of life, you build resilience. Your thoughts are the other inmates - some good, some bad, some just there on the wrong charges.

I truly believe that life is mostly about perseverance, if you hold on long enough things actually improve.

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I can’t even deny that, good, beautiful humans still exist. I’ve met a lot of them. Kind in heart, fundamentally good, but intelligent enough to manipulate, and untrustworthy enough to put their interest before yours.

I mean, why not? I will never put another person over myself too. In every scenario I will and must choose myself first and this “selfish” ideology is the greatest self perseverance method I know.

If you always put yourself first, you can never be less than priority to you. Treat people exactly as they are, equally and accordingly. Believe in your own opinions, stand firm on your boundaries but be kind. Every good deed has its own reward and life is too short to procrastinate your good deed.

Hi Stranger, I’ve overshared too much already……no need stopping now.

Since you’re here read this

Now I know that, journaling is peak adult experience to improve your mental health and heighten awareness.

One day, when your thoughts feel loud and everything seems clouded…..go back and read your own pages. And there it will be, PROOF.

Proof that you’ve been here before.

Proof that you survived things you once thought would break you.

Proof that the version of you who made it through is still very much alive.

Somewhere in those lines, you’ll find proof of your strength again.

You’ll see how much you’ve already endured. You’ll see your resilience staring back at you, quietly reminding you who you are.

Journaling becomes a quiet conversation across time. Document your life! Write everything! Not as a productivity tool, not as self-help. But as a private record of your becoming.

To change your life, you need to first change your self-concept and clear all limiting beliefs. This is one of my favorite books, it’s a short read. You can finish it in a day.

Subscribe now

But I wonder if romance is actually dead, or if we’ve just collectively lost the nerve to use words that have a little weight to them.

If I was a romantic,

If I were such a person, I’d believe charisma and expression fueled attraction. I wouldn’t just reach for the mundane. I’d steer clear of the hollow, rehearsed way people talk now, the one liners and low IQ flat style of conversation where everyone is so busy playing it safe that they forget to be interesting.

I’d meet a real woman, someone who knows that silence is a waste of a good connection. In person, the chemistry would be a bit of a gamble. You know, that sharp, wordless realization that the person standing in front of you is actually dangerous to your composure. I wouldn’t waste time on the small talk, I’d want to find the person behind the screen who still has an imagination left to lose.

There’s nothing better than a girl with talent, drive, ambition all of them things above. She’s showing an abundance ~ Dave 2017

When I come online to find those long, thoughtful messages from you, I’d write back

“I feel somewhat flattered that you are in bed, about to go to sleep and still thinking of me. I’m in the same boat.

You’ve been roaming my thoughts all day! I feel like I should be too aware to feel like this, but I can’t help myself.”

I might admit that I don’t just “chat,” I compose. I’d tell you,

“I do turn over all of my words in my head before I commit to typing them out. Typing them, deleting bits, replacing those bits with other bits that make the sentence read better, and so on ad infinitum.

I feel like I’m the pupil trying to impress the teacher. The teacher, who has a command of words and sentence construction akin to Shakespeare, whereas the pupil tries to cover up his lack of comprehension, by upping the comedy element as a distraction.

Try not to gush too much….but don’t stop either. I might pretend to be composed, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like knowing I live rent free in your head.”

If I Was a Romantic,

If I had that side of me, I wouldn’t just say “good morning beautiful!” like every other guy. I’d probably be a bit more honest about the effect you have. I might write,

“I’ve been trying to come up with a clever line but honestly, I just really wanted to say hi. Good morning fine woman.”

I’d want to feed the butterflies a little. I’d tell you,

“I was looking for something to brighten my day, but then I remembered you do that just by being in my thoughts.”

Then I’d ask,

“What’s on the agenda for the day? I might want to be on that list sometime.”

When the sun goes down and the day slows, I might text you to say,

“You’ve been making my thoughts more interesting today, couldn’t wait to say hi.”

Or maybe, “I thought I’d give my mind a little rest today, but turns out it just wanted more of you.”

If we went long hours without talking I’ll be in your DM like

“I was just thinking, what’s a girl like you doing so far from my thoughts? I’ve got to fix that. Good evening gorgeous.”

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If I was a romantic,

I might plan dates, and cute meetups. If I was such a man I’d cook for you when you came over.

If I was a romantic, I’d compliment you. If I felt inspired, I might tell you,

“you have a lot of beautiful curves but your smile is my absolute favorite.”

And when you sent a photo, I wouldn’t play it safe. I’d tell you,

“Damn, you’re fine! Falling for you would be a short trip. You look absolutely stunning.”

I’d admit that “you really be making it hard to focus when you’re this fine and sweet.”

I’d ask you, what it felt like to be God’s favorite, because clearly you’re beautifully and wonderfully made. On your photo, I’d even drop you a verse without context, to make your insides tingly because red cheeks is all I have in store for you……

“Songs of Solomon 4:7

I’d be audacious. I’d text you and say, “stop thinking of me, I’m here now.”

I’d push the boundaries because I’d know exactly where my words were landing.

I’d be cocky and say, “be honest. How long have you been waiting for a text from me?”

And when your text drops, if I was excited, I might respond with,

“I swear, every time I see your name pop up, my day gets a little better. How’s yours going so far?”

I’d be curious about the parts of you that don’t show up on the surface. I’d ask, “what words do you think people use to describe you?”

or “what’s your favorite quality about yourself? Or your least favorite?”

I’d want to know, “what would constitute a perfect day for you?” Paint me a picture with words what your ideal “Perfect date” is. I’d want to know what music you prefer, and more importantly, what kind of love you grew up around.

If I was a pessimist I’d say,

It doesn’t matter, romance is dead and flirting is a lost art. The people with real imaginations and creativity have either had their hearts broken already or been corrupted by the ones without imagination and expression.

If I was romantic, I might actually care.

But then again, maybe I’m just playing with the ink to see what shapes it makes. I could be the last of the real lovers, or I could just be someone who knows how to write a good story.

I’ll leave the light on in that “cringy, cheesy area of attraction” and let you decide if I’m actually standing in it.

Whether this is a confession or just a well-timed distraction is for me to know and for you to wonder. For now, I’ll just keep my words where they belong……somewhere just out of your reach, but never out of your head.

If I were a romantic, I’d tell you to go read my other pieces and let the stories decide for you

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The argument was that people don't actually care about the ideas, they just want to be perceived as the kind of person who has ideas. They want to sit at the top of the social hierarchy where the "thinkers" live.

And honestly? My first thought was ‘Isn't this a great problem to have?’

If we’ve reached a point where the "trendy" thing to do is read long-form essays and try to articulate a coherent thought, then we’ve actually won. Even if someone is only reading or writing to look "smart" or climb some weird social hierarchy, they’re still spending their time reading and writing. I’d take a million people pretending to be smart over a million people proudly melting their brains on a 15-second loop of someone peeling a giant grape.

It’s true that reading has become a status symbol again. You see it on "BookTok" or "Bookstagram", the perfectly curated stacks of Joan Didion or Robert Greene’s The 48 Laws of power. There’s a hierarchy now where being an intellectual is at the top of the food chain. People go out of their way to discuss obscure literature or niche philosophy just to distinguish themselves from the masses. And sure, maybe some of it is performative. Maybe some people are just here because it’s "trendy" to have a newsletter.

We’ve always used our hobbies to signal who we are. But let’s be real, even if you’re reading Rich Dad, Poor Dad just so you can post a picture of it next to a latte, you are still reading. The motivation might be purely for the "vibes," but the byproduct is incredible. You can’t read a 2,000-word piece on Substack to "look cool" without accidentally improving your vocabulary or stumbling onto a perspective that shifts your own. Your eyes are still hitting those sentences, your brain is still processing syntax. Even if you’re doing it for the wrong reasons, the side effect is that you’re becoming more articulate. You’re absorbing perspectives and building vocabulary, who cares what your original motivation was?

I’d much rather see someone write a "think piece" that’s a bit messy, logically flawed or even slightly pretentious than see them give up on thinking for themselves entirely. There’s dignity in the attempt.

We talk a lot about “doomscrolling,” and Substack isn’t immune to it. You can spend three hours on this platform jumping from one political manifesto to a personal essay about a breakup. But let’s compare the two.

On one hand, you have the short-form video algorithm, a literal dopamine slot machine designed to bypass your prefrontal cortex. You forget the video the second you swipe up. On the other hand, you have written words. Reading requires a different level of cognitive “buy-in.” It forces you to visualize and to follow a logic chain. You’re experiencing how another human captures their reality, you’re learning how to structure an argument. Even if the content is "bad," the medium itself requires more from you than a video does. Substack is, in many ways, the cure for brain rot. Even when you find yourself doomscrolling here, the quality of the "doom" is different.

This leads into that whole debate about AI and authenticity. I actually wrote a piece a few weeks ago called "Every Creative Person is a Thief," and I stand by it. People get so hung up on "authenticity," especially now with AI. They think if you use a tool to help you express yourself, it doesn't count.

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Every great writer you love was a "pseudo-intellectual" at some point. They started by mimicking their heroes. They stole cadences from their favorite authors or imagery from Plath. Using AI today isn't that much different in principle, it’s just a more powerful tool for synthesis.

If someone uses AI to help them express a deep desire or to structure an educational post, does that diminish the value? I don't think so. The effort of compiling, editing, and directing that AI to say what you want it to say is still an intellectual exercise. Even when your aim is to sound smart, you’re still making the intellectual choice to learn and communicate.

We’ve evolved so far technologically that we’ve almost forgotten that we are, at our core, creative animals. We’ve forgotten that for most of history, poetry and the written word were how we actually made sense of the world. Being able to capture your soul and pin it to a page is an admirable gift. So, if people are flocking to platforms like Substack to try and reclaim that, even if they’re doing it because it’s "trendy" we should be celebrating that. I say let them!

We’re so afraid of being "cringe" or looking like we’re trying too hard. But "trying hard" is how you get good. We need more people trying to capture their thoughts, even if they’re worried they aren't "intellectual" enough to do it. The gift of being able to put your perspective into words is one of the most human things we have.

We’ve spent so much time chasing "pixel-perfect" lives. Maybe it’s time we lean into the messy, awkward process of finding our voices again. If the new "trend" is wanting to be perceived as someone who thinks deeply, then I say let the trend continue. If you have a perspective, capture it. Don't worry about whether you're being "pseudo" or "real." By the very act of trying to sound smart, you’re engaging in the research, the drafting, and the critical thinking that actually makes you smarter. As long as you’re engaging with ideas, you’re already ahead of the curve.

So, write the bad essay. Post the "pretentious" book photo. Use the AI to help you find the words you can't reach yet. It’s all part of the same process of waking up your mind. The hierarchy doesn't matter! Whether you’re a "genuine intellectual" or a "trendy poser" doesn't matter. If you're going to be a "poser," be a poser who reads. Eventually, the mask becomes the face.

I’ll drop this here,

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Then, someone pulls out a phone.

The moment I hear “let’s take a picture,” my chest sinks, a switch flips. I freeze. I don’t know what to do with my chin, I forget how my own smile works. My hands, which were perfectly fine a second ago, now feel like two giant, awkward hams that I don’t know where to park. And when the photo finally pops up on the screen, I’m looking at a stranger. My features look flat, my eyes look vacant, and the “vibe” that I know I have in real life is nowhere to be found.

It’s like the camera lens is a filter that strips away everything that makes me me.

For a long time, this bothered me. I’d see a bad photo and it would genuinely mess with my head for the rest of the day. I’d wonder if the mirror was lying to me. I’d wonder if the distorted, awkward version of me on the screen was the “real” one and the guy I saw in the mirror was just a hallucination.

But I’ve realized that being unphotogenic is actually a weird compliment to your humanity.

A camera captures a fraction of a second. It’s a static, 2D slice of a 3D reality. But humans aren’t meant to be seen in 1/1000th of a second. We are meant to be seen in motion. We are the way our voice drops when we’re serious, the way our eyes crinkle when we’re actually laughing (not “posing”), and the energy we put out when we’re just being.

You can’t photograph an aura.

I’ve noticed that some of the most “photogenic” people I meet online are actually underwhelming in person. They’ve mastered the angles, they know how to manipulate the 2D plane to look perfect. But when you meet them, the spark isn’t there. They are a 10 on Instagram and a 5 at the coffee shop with an empty head.

I’d much rather have it the other way around.

I’m learning to be okay with the fact that I don’t always translate well to a sensor. I’m learning to stop cringing at the tagged photos and realize that the people who know me, the people who actually see me aren’t looking at a static image. They’re seeing the man in motion. They’re seeing the version of me that a camera is too primitive to catch.

There is a subtle cruelty in the way modern life demands we be "content-ready" at all times. We walk into a dinner or a wedding, and there’s this unspoken pressure to be a silhouette that looks good in a square frame. But some of us aren't silhouettes. We are textures. We are the baritone of a laugh, the specific way we lean into a conversation, the beautiful habitats of our charisma. We are atmospheric! Our appeal isn't in the symmetry of our cheekbones, it’s in the temperature we bring into a space. When you freeze that, you lose the plot. You're left with a grainy, pixelated version of a man who was actually having a great time until the flash went off.

I look back at photos from my favorite nights, and I usually look like a complete mess. My hair is out of place, I’m mid-sentence, or I’m squinting in a way that the algorithm hates. But in those moments, I was the most alive. I was fully there. The "good" photos, the ones where I managed to hold my breath and find a tolerable angle actually feel more dishonest. They represent a version of me that was busy performing for a piece of glass rather than engaging with the people I love.

There’s a strange power in being "uncapturable." It forces people to deal with you in the present tense. If you want to know what I look like, you have to be standing four feet away from me while I’m telling a story. You have to see how I react to a joke or how my expression softens when I’m listening to you. You can’t consume me from a distance or judge me by a thumbnail. My value is locked behind a physical interaction.

We’ve been conditioned to believe that if you aren't "pixel-perfect," you are not actually attractive. We treat the camera like an objective judge, but attraction is a living, breathing thing. It’s in the way you carry your weight, the specific rhythm of your walk, and that intangible "pull" that makes people want to stay in your orbit. A lens can see your skin, but it’s blind to your spirit. It can see the brand of your clothes, but it can’t feel the weight of your confidence.

We are currently living through a mass delusion fueled by social media. On any given afternoon, you can find 10 “baddies” per minute on your FYP. People with such aggressive structural perfection that you start to wonder if they were born or rendered in a lab. We stare at these digital anomalies until our brains recalibrate. We use these distant, filtered ghosts to set the “spec” for our actual lives, demanding a specific jawline or a perfect body type from people in our own zip code. Forgetting that these influencers are continents away, existing only as light on a screen. You will likely never share a room with them, yet you use their curated highlights to devalue the person standing right in front of you.

Because of this, the girl on your street or the guy in your school suddenly feels “ordinary.” We’ve flattened the people we actually have a chance of loving because they don’t look like a high-resolution export. Our generation is essentially “cooked” because we’ve traded real, messy intimacy for an impossible standard of symmetry.

I often think that the reason our grandparents’ marriages lasted wasn’t just because they were “tougher” but because their world was local. Their standard for beauty was the most attractive person in their town, not the top 0.01% of the global population filtered through three different apps. They had the luxury of appreciating real, flawed, authentic attraction because they weren’t being haunted by the “perfect” stranger on the timeline five thousand miles away.

There’s a theory that humans were never supposed to see their own reflections this often, let alone a global gallery of everyone else’s. For most of history, you saw yourself in a muddy pond or a piece of polished metal. You didn’t spend four hours a day comparing your unedited pores to a professional model’s digital mask. We’ve been yanked out of the real world and forced into a competition that doesn’t actually exist. We are judging the “real” by the standards of the “rendered,” and in doing so, we’re becoming blind to the beauty that actually breathes.

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I’ve stopped apologizing for the bad shots. Now, when a friend shows me a distorted photo of myself, I just laugh. I recognize that the guy on the screen is just a low-resolution ghost. He’s a shadow cast by the real thing. I’m not going to spend my life chasing the approval of a sensor that was never designed to understand depth in the first place.

The funny thing is, I actually look like myself in motion. If you catch me on video, the guy from the mirror finally shows up, the gestures make sense, the eyes have life. The video captures the flow, the three-dimensional reality that a still shot kills. But I’ll be honest, I have this lowkey envy for the people who are just naturally photogenic. I see them post these effortless photos where they look incredible without even trying, and I think about how much more of my life I’d document if I had that gift. If I knew the camera wouldn't betray me the second I sat still, my camera roll would be full instead of being a graveyard of deleted attempts. I’d take way more photos, but instead, I usually stay in the shadows of the gallery, waiting for the video to start so I can finally look like a human again.

I don’t worry about the “switch” flipping anymore. If a camera catches me looking weird, fine. It just means the camera wasn’t strong enough to hold the moment. I’d rather be the man who leaves an impression on your memory than the man who looks good on your feed. So, if you’re like me and you’ve ever felt a wave of self-doubt because a candid photo made you look like a stranger, take a breath. Remind yourself that a camera is just a tool, and like any tool, it has its limits. It can capture light, but it can’t capture life.

In a world obsessed with the “image,” there is a quiet rebellion in being an experience. I’m choosing to be a man of high frequency, even if the camera only sees the static. Because at the end of the day, the people who matter aren’t scrolling through your life, they’re living it with you.

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I am a writer.

I treated writing as a ghost skill, something I possessed but never permitted to be a part of my identity. But it’s not just a skill I happen to have, it’s a hobby I actually love.

Recently, I started journaling, and it felt like a dam broke, it triggered a landslide. Watching my own thoughts spill onto the page was like meeting a twin I didn’t know I had, a shock even to me.

Since then, I’ve filled two entire journals with raw, unfiltered thoughts I didn’t know I was carrying. But here’s the thing, nobody in my real life knows I write. Not my family, not my closest friends, not even the people I share meals with know that I spend my nights translating the universe into sentences.

Only one friend knows, the one who recommended this app and even then, it took weeks of courage before I dared to send her my username.

She said “To be free is to be cringe”

I’m learning to live by that. Choosing honesty over polish, expression over restraint, and allowing myself to exist without shrinking.

I’m not embarrassed by my writing, I’m very good at it. I love the fact that strangers are reading this right now. But showing it to people who know me in the flesh? That makes me feel “socially naked.”

It’s almost like I don’t want them to see this expressive side of me. I’m proud of my work yet I struggle from the emotional vulnerability that comes from being seen in new perspectives.

Even when I’m home for the holidays, if someone walks into the room while I’m journaling, I’ll quickly pivot. I’ll pretend I’m studying or working on something “technical” for my job, rather than just admitting I’m a man with big thoughts.

I know they won’t cringe or judge if they read my work, I’m an amazing writer. I’m almost certain they’d be pleased at how brilliant I articulate my thoughts. But admitting to this expressive, in-tuned side feels like revealing a secret room in a house they’ve lived in for decades.

It’s the same way I gatekeep my spiritual life. My circle doesn’t know I’ve had an awakening. They don’t know I’m a strong believer and practitioner of manifestation and the laws of the universe, that I study energy, frequency, and the deeper philosophies of life. Even my mother doesn’t know that I’m a born again Christian or that I pray for long hours almost every day, read my Bible, attend church on Sundays, or that some of my favorite music is Christian worship songs. They don’t know that this is the closest I’ve ever been to God, and I’ve been building and maintaining this relationship with him for almost a year now.

I hoard parts of my life and I’m not entirely sure why, but it feels good sometimes to keep my hidden gems to myself. I’m very in touch with my feelings and in harmony with my emotions but a lot of times I don’t know how to show people this empathetic part of myself. I used to blame it on subtle toxic masculinity, but it’s more complex than that, I’m not that kind of guy.

It’s even harder with family. With strangers, I can be vulnerable to a point, but with people I truly care about, I struggle.

I don’t live with my family full time so I only come home for holidays. I try to bridge the gap, when I’m away, I’m sweet and empathetic, over calls and texts I’m caring, present, and we feel close. But once I’m back home, it’s like a switch flips. I retreat into my room, isolate myself, and that affectionate version of me disappears.

We even joke about it, how I seem like two different people. The me they see when I’m away isn’t the me they live with at home. I am two men living in one skin, taking baby steps toward a bridge that hasn’t been built yet. But the relationship is good, I’ve been blessed with the sweetest family.

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The irony of my life is that I am an engineer by trade and tech guy by choice. My professional world is built on cold logic and literal structures. But I have never felt more alive than when I am sitting across from a glowing screen at 2:00 AM, researching and sharing thoughts for no reward other than the pure love of the craft.

When I first joined Substack, I went by “Diary of a Tall Man” It was a shield, a way to test the water without getting my face wet.

But anonymity is a small desire. I have realized that purpose should never be hidden or unpursued.

As the saying goes,

“You will become as small as your controlling desire and as great as your dominant aspiration.”

Today, I am putting down the shield.

I am Alex Jacks.

I am a writer, a thinker, and a creator.

We live in a culture fluent in critique. We analyze and compare until our softness feels like a weakness. We are taught that if a hobby isn’t monetized, if you’re not getting paid for it, it isn’t worth the time. But I am learning that doing things for the simple sake of the heart is the only way to stay human.

You can write without a paycheck. You can create to satisfy a craving in your chest. I believe that if you love the work, the world will eventually find a way to reward it but that isn’t the point.

Life is meant to be enjoyed, not just sold. You are not a product to be marketed - you are a creator meant to be heard.

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Today I realized I have a hunger for engaging with the world. I saw just how much I enjoy talking with people and in this context, I mean strangers.

I find myself leaning into the opportunity to show off my confidence, to flirt, to stare straight into their eyes and experience how they receive my aura. But more than that, I love the feeling I get when I summon the courage to perform in public.

I like that I’m aware of my own attraction, I can perceive when others lean into it, and it fuels my charisma.

To my anxiety,

I have buried you🪦.

Because I once feared everything, I moved from a world of shadows into a state where I fear almost nothing now. I think this comes from a heightened awareness. I’ve learned the secret math of the universe:

Nothing is ever as big as it seems,

not the situations, and certainly not the people. They are all draped in the heavy fabric of exaggeration.

Now, when I am met with a situation that feels like a “10” on the scale of pressure, I subconsciously strip away the theatrics until it is a “7.” I remove the unnecessary pressure so I can navigate the reality with ease.

The greatest inheritance my anxiety left me was, ironically, detachment. Because I spent so long worrying about every outcome, I eventually broke through to the other side. I am now so detached from “how things end” that I am forced to live entirely in “how things are.” This allows me to be my most authentic self, almost every time.

But I often wonder how much more damage than good awareness does?

A thousand thoughts in the most shocking sketch, overwhelmed by different perspectives. I think of boundaries I over pushed, morals I’ve overlooked, or perhaps fantasies I might have partaken in.

To be bold is to be inherently careless. To have the raw audacity to dare life, to take on new experiences without fear.

But the risks, oh, the risks!

Every time you take a risk, it’s like gambling with your grace in the hopes that the odds will be in your favor.

Still, the ruggedness that comes from being brave is unmatched. It is the confidence to put yourself out there and the ability to see your own beauty.

There is no romance quite like falling in love with yourself, knowing without a doubt that you are beautifully and wonderfully made.

That kind of certainty is the result of deep inner work, a self-concept aligned with a higher frequency.

But what do you do when you’re too confident to be afraid?

What happens when your bravery begins to soften your resolve and loosen your morals?

I’ve realized that Discipline is the middleman between confidence and risk. With self discipline, you can hold yourself back from the risks your confidence would normally take you toward.

In my reality, observation must be a frequent companion! That crooked curiosity to stay aware of your surrounding. Because safety is not just a responsibility but a standard of life. It is your primary duty to safeguard your own being.

Maybe I’ve become too daring but I have learned the art of contentment too. The discipline to not want outside of oneself. You must keep your desires as fuel to motivate you to work harder and manifest your goals faster. Not as a temptation to fall prey to greed, lust or envy.

You don’t chase what is already yours, you simply just attract and attain. The universe is constantly sending signals like posters plastered along the path of your life and your level of awareness determines whether you have the discernment to read them.

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Today, I’m reminded why restraint matters. Not everyone deserves access to your energy, and not every impulse deserves expression. Sometimes, the confidence to be daring is also the prison we voluntarily walk into.

The beautiful girl you’re confident to flirt with might be the very catalyst that crumbles your peace and reputation. The opportunity you’re so eager to seize might be the setup you’ve been praying against. I’m realizing that discernment is just as important as courage. Not every open door is meant to be entered, and not every desire deserves action simply because it exists.

Integrity means holding back even when it’s incredibly convenient to move forward. To uphold a standard for yourself that even if it’s not clear to others, it makes sense to you, especially for the man you hope to become. It is choosing long-term alignment over temporary satisfaction.

I think that applies deeply to how we deal with people, especially women, friendships, and attention. Restrain yourself from unnecessary flirting. Not every women deserve the heat of your energy, especially those you don’t have clear or good intentions for. To play in those waters is to compound a down payment on future resentment.

Temptation has a way of tangling threads of destiny. A careless mistake can lead to betrayal, emotional pain or a long term commitment to actions of regret.

Not everyone has to experience your energy and the best parts of you. Hold out because by not holding out you risk tainting your aura. The older I get, the more I understand that protecting your peace is less about isolation and more about boundaries. In fact, the strongest way to preserve certain friendships is often through tighter boundaries, not deeper access. Respect grows when people understand where the line is.

Discipline yourself to be honest, to be loyal to friendships, to take calculated, rewarding risks and be confident enough to stand up for yourself.

Call people out when they overstep, it is never as “big a deal” as your fears suggest. When you speak with command, people will take your words at face value and respect your authority. But if you fear confrontations, you become a public doormat for others to step on. Because they don’t care about your convenience or feelings, they only care about their own interests. Give much and expect less because when you expect so much, you create a path for disappointment to creep in.

And maybe that’s the deeper lesson underneath all of this: self-respect is built through selective behavior. Through restraint. Through honesty. Through loyalty. Through knowing when to act boldly and when to walk away entirely. Sometimes preserving your character matters more than proving your confidence.

In the end, none of it matters, not your job, petty quarrels, colleagues or even the temporary environment. They are all just phases, destined to be shuffled into the archives of your memory.

So, never take the trivial seriously. Refuse to carry emotional struggles that are unworthy of your spirit. There is a profound, echoing beauty in simply being yourself but the highest form of that beauty is a man who is confident enough to be bold, and disciplined enough to be still.

In design, in content creation, writing and nearly almost every field, even in the very architecture of our dreams, we are all scavengers. We are magpies, lining our nests with the glittering scraps of everything we’ve ever seen, heard, or felt. Picasso famously hinted that the difference between a student and a master is simply the ability to hide the trail of the “theft.” The magic isn’t in the ingredients but in the way we weave those stolen threads into a garment the world hasn’t worn yet.

I’ve always been comfortable with this, it felt like the natural law of the jungle. But lately, that understanding has begun to bend inward, sharpening into a cold, uncomfortable question that waits for me in the quiet hours after the screen goes dark.

If everything is borrowed, if human expression is already an act of endless reimagining then what happens when the tool learns to speak back?

Are you still a writer if the machine held the pen? AI?

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The question usually arrives after the “Publish” button has been clicked. You watch the likes trickle in, you see your words shared and received, and a phantom voice asks the one thing no one else does: Did I really write this? Or did I just arrange something clever enough to pass as thought?

This isn’t actually a technological debate, but an existential one. It’s a question of authorship, honesty, and most importantly self-respect.

Let’s dismantle the myth of the “Pure Writer.” No one creates from a vacuum, we are built from the rhythm of the books we loved at twenty, the sermons we endured as children, and the conversations we didn’t know we were archiving. We imitate long before we innovate. Nobody calls that a fraud, we call it being human.

So the metric isn’t “Did you use a tool?” but rather,

Where did the thinking happen?

If the thinking is yours -
the curiosity, the discomfort, the question you couldn’t shake, the wounds you’re circling, the ideas you can’t stop returning to, then you are a writer. A pen does not make a man a poet, a typewriter never made someone honest. A thesaurus never turned a hack into a genius. These were always just levers and pulleys.

But there is a line,

If you hand your internal emptiness to a machine and publish the result as insight, if there’s no wrestling, no decision-making, no discernment, no voice, no midnight sweat over a semicolon…..then yes, something is missing.

The fraud isn’t in the silicon, but in the bypass of the soul.

There is a difference between:

“Here are my raw, bleeding thoughts; help me shape them into the grace I can feel but cannot yet name.”

And: “Say something impressive so I can look like the person I’m too lazy to become.”

The first is collaboration. The second is disguise.

Authorship is not the act of typing, but the act of choosing.

It is knowing why a sentence belongs and why its neighbor must be evicted. It is feeling the “lie” in a paragraph even when the grammar is perfect. Most people underestimate how much of writing lives in the editing, the brutal, selective refinement that happens after the first draft exists.

Authentic writing is the willingness to take responsibility for the final meaning. It is standing behind the period at the end of a sentence and saying, “Yes. This is what I meant.”

If you dictate your heart to a scribe, you are a writer. If you speak your thoughts into a recorder and transcribe them, you are a writer. If you take a jagged output from a machine and carve it, reject half of it, and breathe your own lived experience into the rest, you are still the architect.

We feel uneasy about AI because we fear the simulation of depth. We’ve all read it - that prose that has cadence but no gravity. It sounds like a person, but it feels like a hallway with no rooms. Readers can tell, they can sense when there is no "lived reflection" behind the words.

You are not a fraud if:

• The spark originated in your specific curiosity or your private pain.

• You argue with the machine, challenging its clichés and rejecting its easy answers.

• You use the tool to dig deeper into your own meaning, rather than running away from it.

But you are lying to yourself if:

• You let the machine replace the labor of your own conviction.

• You publish “insights” that you yourself do not fully understand.

• You chase the status of being a writer without doing the work of being a human who pays attention.

Being a writer has never been about moral purity or the “manual labor” of the hand. It is, and has always been, about attention. It is about staying with a thought long enough for it to change you.

If AI helps you stay in that uncomfortable heat for longer, if it helps you see a new angle of your own truth then you haven’t lost your voice. You’re simply learning how to use a new instrument to sing the same ancient song.

Stay in the work and in the wrestle. That is where the writer lives.

I think you’ll love this piece so, I’ll drop it here

On Writing & Storytelling

Yes, I Write with AI. Now What?

Every time there’s a new advancement in the development of artificial intelligence in relation to creativity and creative tools, the internet explodes into a frenzy…

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a year ago · 511 likes · 117 comments · Ebun

But there is a shadow economy running beneath the surface of every human interaction, a silent, ancient trade that determines the true wealth of a life, a currency that does not reside in the pocket, but in the pulse. The currency accepted at the gates of the human heart. It is the economy of appreciation.

If money moves the world, appreciation moves the spirit. To appreciate is to add value to that which you observe, it is the act of looking at the mundane until it becomes miraculous. This is the only legal tender recognized by the soul, the only gold that doesn’t lose its luster when the lights go out.

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The deepest hunger of the human heart is not for food, or even for love in its abstract sense, but to be witnessed.

The tragedy of the modern soul is not that it is unloved, but that it is uncounted.

Philosophy speaks often of the “Existential Void,” that cold suspicion that we are merely ghosts rattling around in biological machinery. What fills that void? It is not achievement, or the accumulation of things. It’s the moment another consciousness stops its frantic spinning, looks us in the eye, and settles its gaze.

To be appreciated is to be told

“I see the labor you didn’t think anyone noticed. I see the quiet dignity with which you carry your heaviest burdens. You are not invisible.”

When we withhold appreciation, we’re not just being “frugal” with our praise, we are creating a void. The human psyche is a delicate ecosystem that requires the carbon dioxide of recognition to produce the oxygen of purpose. Without it, the soul begins to wilt. We see this in the weary eyes of the parent who cooks ten thousand meals in silence, and in the slumped shoulders of the employee whose best work vanishes into a corporate void.

When you fail to offer appreciation, you are committing a silent theft. You are taking the energy, the labor, and the presence of another human being and treating it as a "given" a natural resource to be mined rather than a miracle to be honored. To be "taken for granted" is to be slowly erased, pixel by pixel, until the soul feels it is shouting into a vacuum.

The Greats understood this. From the Stoics to the Transcendentalists, the consensus remains: Value is not inherent in the object, it is conferred by the observer.

Think of a piece of art in a darkened room, it possesses the same pigments and brushstrokes as it does in the light, yet it lacks the power to move. It requires the “legal tender” of a human gaze to become valuable.

In the same way, human potential is often a latent force waiting for the spark of appreciation to turn it into a flame.

Consider the word itself ‘Appreciate’.

In the world of finance, it means to increase in value over time.

This is the hidden law of human psychology. When you appreciate a person, they literally become more. Their capacity for kindness expands, their creative fire burns brighter, their resilience hardens into diamond.

You are not merely observing their value - you are generating it.

The soul is a mirror. When we reflect back to someone the best version of themselves, they begin to believe in that reflection. We are all, in a sense, the architects of each other’s worth. We hold the “legal tender” that can buy a man out of his despair or a woman out of her exhaustion. You are doing more than making them feel good, you are performing an act of ontological validation. You are testifying to their existence, you are saying, “Because I see you, you are more real.”

“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” — Simone Weil

There is a certain intellectual vanity in being “hard to please.” We have mistaken cynicism for sophistication.

If appreciation is so powerful, why are we so stingy with it?

We treat our “thank yous” and our “I admire yous” as if they were a finite resource, as if praising another’s light somehow dims our own. We withhold our appreciation as if it were a limited hoard of gold, fearing that if we spend it too freely on the waiter, the spouse, or the stranger, we will have nothing left for the “truly great.” This is the great poverty of the modern ego. We operate from a mindset of scarcity, fearing that if we acknowledge the brilliance in another, we are admitting to a shadow in ourselves.

But the alchemy of the soul works differently, it does not follow the laws of thermodynamics. It follows the laws of the well: the more you draw from it, the fresher the water flows.

Appreciation is the only currency that multiplies for both the spender and the receiver. When you pay someone the compliment of true recognition, your own internal treasury grows. You become a person capable of seeing beauty, which is a far more valuable trait than being the person who possesses it.

The person who cannot appreciate the small grace, the way the light hits a brick wall, or the quiet patience of a friend is the poorest person in the room, regardless of their bank balance. They are walking through a treasure chamber with their eyes sewn shut.

To live a life of meaning is to become a “Big Spender” of this spiritual currency.

You must posses a radical presence, you cannot appreciate what you do not notice. It requires you to be a hunter of beauty, it demands that you walk through the world looking for reasons to say, "I am glad you are here."

It means looking past the surface-level utility of people, what they can do for you and seeing the quiet, trembling humanity beneath.

• It is the note left on a desk.

• The hand on a shoulder during a silent struggle.

• It is the specific, pointed observation: “I noticed how you handled that difficulty with such grace.”

• It is celebrating the ordinary until it reveals its extraordinary core.

A Wealth Beyond Measure

At the end of the road, when the physical currencies of this world are stripped away, we are left with a ledger of how we treated one another. We may not remember the days we “won,” but we will remember the moments we were seen and the moments we took the time to see.

When the noise of the world fades, the only thing that remains is the warmth of the connections we forged. Did we leave people feeling more valuable than we found them? Did we spend our “tender” wisely, or did we let it rot in the vault of our pride?

The soul recognizes no other wealth. It’s time we stopped being misers of the spirit and started being spendthrifts of the heart. Appreciation is the bridge between two solitudes. It is the “legal tender” that allows us to trade our isolation for belonging.

So, spend it wildly. Spend it recklessly. You have an infinite supply, and there is a world of starving souls waiting for the change.

If this piece resonated with you, I’d love to hear about a moment when someone’s appreciation changed the trajectory of your day or your life.

“How do you find yourself?
Better question, how do you create yourself?

It’s been three months since my graduation, and I genuinely believed that by now I would have the answers or at least be moving confidently in the direction of “self-discovery.” Looking back at myself from a year ago, I remember how hopeful I was. I kept saying, “If I’m doing this well now, imagine where I’ll be by next year.” I thought the only way was up, I truly believed progress was a straight line.

Did I jinx myself?
Or was hope and expectation the real thief of joy?

I’m not doing badly today, I’m finally done with school. I survived and overcame almost everything that tried to break me. My mental health is good-ish. I’ve started working out again, I feel stronger physically and lighter mentally. Yet there’s still this small, stubborn cloud of self-doubt that follows me around. This quiet whisper of underachievement and that overwhelming feeling of having no clear purpose.

Who am I?

What’s my thing? What do I enjoy?

What am I exceptionally good at?

I could go on but it’s just a bunch of unanswered questions and these questions used to chase me everywhere. I know who I am but I don’t have me figured out yet, do I even have a passion? If yes, then what is it? How do I know?

I read a post that felt so real it was almost like the writer had me in mind:

“I’m a Paradox,

I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad,

I’m lazy, yet ambitious,

I don’t like myself, but I also love who I am,

I say I don’t care, but I really do,

I crave love, but I reject it when it comes my way.

I’m a conflicted contradiction.”

And honestly, that was and sometimes still is me. If I couldn’t figure myself out, how could anyone else? I have a beautiful perspective on life, I understand that life is a journey and everybody’s trying to find their path, no one really cares and even if they do they can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be you, to be inside your head. It’s like when you’re sick or going through a difficult time and you have all your friends and family with you, cheering you and reassuring you that everything is going to be fine. They support you which is great and helps but at the end of the day when you’re alone in your bed, even if someone is lying next to you and holding you while you sleep, you still have to deal with what goes on in your head, the physical pain you might be battling, no amount of companionship will do for your internal demons or so to speak and that’s what it is to be a human.

Life is a personal journey, you’re your own vessel, you’re your own car on a long road.
Others may drive beside you to guide you and make the journey more interesting, but at the end of the day only you is responsible for how you drive, where you drive to and getting yourself to your destination……no one can take the wheel for you.

So the real question becomes:
What kind of car are you?
A high-maintenance luxury machine?
A beat-up, barely functioning model?

How much work do you put in daily to maintain your car? Are you building a masterpiece or just tying to get by daily so you don’t break down on the road?

You see, there’s so much questions to this thing called life, questions we don’t always have answers to.

People love to say “It’s okay to not have it figured out yet, time is relative, your time will come, there’s so many great people that found their calling at a later point in life” while all of this is true, no one prepares you for how it’ll feel like until you find your purpose, what do you do in the mean time? How much more disappointments and failures can you endure until you win? Is it until I’ve lost every ounce of optimism and morality before my breakthrough happens?

I’ve always believe life is about perseverance, it’s holding on long enough until something happens, it’s taking all the L’s until you learn to turn those L’s to lessons and form a W with it.

Almost everything in life is achievable. Yes, a lot of people are born with unfair advantages: being born into a rich family, born with exceptional beauty, height, great minds, incredible dancing skills, a beautiful voice. Whatever it is you desire or badly need, it’s almost certain that there’s someone out there that was born with it, handed over to them or have it but don’t care much for it.

It reminds me of a Nigerian nursery rhyme:

“Some have food but cannot eat,

Some can eat but have no food….”

The last line of that rhyme says “we have food and we can eat, Glory be to God, Amen.” That last phrase is about gratitude, we often complain about the things we lack, the faults in us, what we don’t already posses but we often forget what we already have, our accomplishments along the way, our own unfair advantages, no matter how small or irrelevant it may be.

I started writing this to vent, to express myself and talk about the things I lack, the thoughts that consume me and try to take my joy but by complaining, I somehow found gratitude hiding underneath all that noise. A few L’s along my path won’t put a dent in the W to come unless I allow it, I need to stop looking at myself like a victim and think of myself as a conqueror, a survivor. Even though the odds are against me, wouldn’t it make the victory more satisfying knowing I beat every single one of them?

But then again, why do I have to survive? why must life always feel like a battle? Why can’t I just live? why must there be an obstacle? Why can’t there be bridges instead of mountains?

Then I remembered, Pain! Yes that word, pain is character development.

I once read that when it’s time to make a change and you refuse to or don’t recognize a need for change, life will force you, break you until you have no option but to make that change, just so you can grow. Pain is life’s greatest agent.”

(Present Day Me)

Reading this now, a year later, I feel compassion for myself. I was searching so hard, afraid of being lost forever. But I see now that I wasn’t lost, I was evolving. I don’t see someone who was failing, I see someone who was becoming. Someone who was shedding old versions, asking hard questions, wrestling with expectations, and trying to understand their own mind.
I still don’t have everything figured out, but I have more clarity, more calm, and more patience with myself. I know a little more about who I am, and even more about who I refuse to be.

And I’m learning that becoming yourself doesn’t happen in a moment.
It happens in layers…….quietly, slowly, courageously. Even when you don’t notice it.

And maybe that’s what self-creation actually looks like, not waking up with all the answers, but learning to walk confidently with the questions.

I may still be a paradox, but at least now I know I’m a growing one.

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I’m deep in the Spirit, focused, hands clenched and just pouring my heart out. My eyes are closed so tight I could swear I was generating solar power.

Then suddenly, a tiny thought slips in;

“Wait, can they all hear me?”

It’s the funniest internal conflict. On one hand, you’re spiritually charged, communicating with God like it’s a private line and on the other hand, you’re vaguely aware that Sister Mary, Brother James, and the random visitor at the back are unintentionally getting a front-row seat to your most personal prayer requests and now know way more about my life than they probably expected when service started.

And I start wondering:

Did I just say that out loud?
Was that too detailed?
Should I have whispered that one?

Meanwhile, everyone else’s eyes are closed like they’re in their own worlds………..but are they? I never know.

The interesting part is this little awareness doesn’t necessarily take me out of the moment. If anything, it highlights just how vulnerable prayer is and maybe that’s part of why praying out loud feels powerful in the first place, it forces a kind of honesty that isn’t polished or pre-approved. It’s raw, emotional and in a way aligns your energy to the right frequency.

It happens to me every single time, and I always laugh about it later.

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This space is my documentation of self-awareness, within the pages of this substack I uncover the man I am becoming, the emotions that dominate my thoughts and the motivations behind my actions. Goals, desires and ambitions will find clarity and solace at the tip of my fingers and in the ink of my pen.

The inner work required for my greatness is mine to do, and I’m committed to putting in the effort to grind through it.

“I will be successful, I will put in so much fucking work that it will be unreasonable for me to fail.

Volume negates luck,

I will keep trying at this even if it kills me, there is no plan B, it’s not over until I win”

I am the solution to my generation!

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