May 5th… 8:39pm

Cinco de mayo…. stayed at home all day…
Slept most of the day
Feeling “shelled”
Like wanting to hide away from the world
Had these dreams based on the hopes of the past
But they’re still based on the past
Feeling stagnated
Where am I going
I must make a decision
Even if I move to the physical vicinity of my friends,

If my mind isn’t near them, it wouldn’t matter how close I was to them;
I’d be Unreachable
What is the motivation?
Not feeling wanted or worth anything
If I had a problem, I would never resort to ineffective solutions to solve it.
I’d go for the ultimate solution.
Weak substitutes are like an insult to human capabilities of success in a challenge
I would never try to use that as a replacement
And I would never dabble with knowing the solution yet being incapable of executing it…
That’s a sick torture
What is the point of these depressed phases I go through?
How can it end once and for all?
I have not gained any known benefit from this other than numb suffering 
Time is going like water nowadays
Help me make my next jump


Eyeless Thought


I can’t see it.

Can’t see my future.

I try and nothing.

Cannot go beyond the moment…

It always ends in the blurry Now.
What do I even Want?

I can’t feel it.

Try and nothing.

Cannot go beyond this moment…

Only to Want it to end.

(C) The Voice of the Wounded Soul

Bottom Bed

Here I am.

Feeling I’m at the bottom again.

Can’t get any lower than this bed; where I lay.

Where all the crumbs and dust and debree sink to

Where all the neglect clumps up until I become one of them

And then I find where I belong.

The murky depths where creation calls for me.

Where my voice has been gurgling and drowning in all the things I’ve put between it and me.

And then I fall down only to fall closer to my VOICE.

Calling me home to rest in my bed where I will wake up anew and fresh from all the waters…

Where I escape from… but end up exactly where I run from…

(C) The Voice of the Wounded Soul

Soul Karma

When that NEED of love arises, you know it’s not yours;

When that FEELING of emptiness catches your attention, it’s not yours;

A karmic desire that ties a stone to your feet.

Oh, what we want and think we own;

So many wants we think we desire,

So little to realize in a baggage of stress;

Baggages disguised as Money.

We aim our vitality for money only to get stuffed into the duffel bag; and empties out the soul.

For the Soul Karma is the weight we thought we wanted….

The karmic choice that ties a stone to your feet.

(C) Jennifer Lee, The Voice of the Wounded Soul

La Habra

I attended my 4th day of tax school on Thursday.

Everywhere there are clues that people are tired of the 8-5 or 9-6 boxed schedule and yesterday confirmed it.

We were talking about how we were being taxed if we earned income from YouTube and everyone in the class voiced how much they are tired of being slaves to the current work system, including the teacher.

I’m going to find the way out of this jail set-up we’ve all been so used to.

They say when man becomes so used to danger he has lost his way and gives up obtaining freedom in exchange for false safety; a jail system he falls in love with. A cage he molds into and atrophied through time. It’s happened on a worldwide scale.

But I’m one of those that won’t accept this control..

Reset Button

“Things always get worse before they get better.”

Last night I met with my friend whom I haven’t spoken in almost a year.

He reminded me the importance of meditation.

I realized I’d fallen into that codependent swirl down the drain again.

It clicked so hard.

I’d given myself away so much I was getting lost and depressed.

I was getting addicted to being with other people even if they pissed me off.

I’m glad I stopped myself before I dissipated into nothingness.

I was becoming the energy that I hated: neediness.

And now I’m totally at peace.. Cleaning myself up from that deadly Fibonacci  spiral.

Meditation… It works.

It’s my reset button.

Internal Blades: Path to Sovereignty 

Closer and closer

I felt the sharp ends of the knives coming out of my stomach.

It started gradually when I began to become irritated by how my sister acts.

She is the kind of person that doesn’t answer in words and only uses growls, moans, or other primal sounds to reply, if any at all. Or she wouldn’t even reply and lets my questions hang until I repeatedly ask her to squeeze a reply from her, which gets tiring.

She also has this passive-aggressive thing where she always thinks she’s right and if I say anything that might conflict with her pre-conceived knowledge. She will argue with you and insist she isn’t arguing.

I noticed I started to forcefully demand her to change how she is because how she is, was irritating me.

I would demand a reply from her, and if she didn’t respond, I would get angry at her and give her an attitude.

I would tell her to learn her vocabulary because all her responses were just primitive sound tones and she needed to evolve.

But I realized she wasn’t the problem.

It was me.

The knives were getting larger and sharper in my stomach and they were starting to hurt me.

I experienced this before where I became so bothered with how the other person acted that I became so aggressive about it.

It might be because I’m so sensitive to how the other person is.

That’s my problem. But I can’t be numb either…

I just care too much.

I need to stop caring about other people and let go.

They are who they are, and I am who I am.

If I am to live where other people stop trying to control who I am, I must stop trying to control who they are too; it must start with me first..

I let myself become too dependent on others for my happiness.

I remembered again.. To live in sovereignty .

Moment of Fear


The feeling returned.

I felt unwanted.


It was dumb of me to trigger it by trying to help the same guy that disrespects me and says I’m unworthy.

The help that triggered him to say,”what are you doing? I don’t want this shit, get out of here! Don’t touch my stuff, stop trying to make me have an accident.”

The same words that drop the weight onto my purpose of living.

I was trying to help, but always, they always think I’m trying to make them have an accident.

Why are people afraid of me?

Why don’t people trust me?

What have I ever done wrong to them?

They always think I’m the evil one and gather in their circles to push me away.

It almost makes me want to slaughter them just because they so strongly believe me to be evil…

It’s as if, because they keep believing I’m evil, that I want to become evil and show them how right they are for supporting such an ill vision of their fears.

I guess I can’t help being a living embodiment of people’s fears…

People hate fear

People hate me

Cause I am FEAR


Things not going my wayThings out of order

Always something gone wrong
Things causing disturbances and irritation

People that want to argue with you thinking they’re right
People that don’t listen to you and ask you what you said so you repeat yourself 3 times
People that say they need to bring all their baggage to the beach and make you carry all their stuff
People that can’t throw away their junk in the house and make you accommodate to their limited space
People that accuse you of doing something and insist they are accurate when you had nothing to do with it..
People that can’t and won’t control their dogs from overstepping personal boundaries…
Why is life so irritating??!
People that sit around in their office all day making money and not doing shit, yet have authority over people doing all the work and having a better lifestyle than them??
Corporations of real estate that overcharge housing prices so the middle-aged men can get extra profit , whilst the buyer had to pay a premium just to get a simple house???
Who invented this shit?

Who is benefitting this system??
They need to retire and go to hell.

The new generation is here

And we are not happy with your creations

Anvil-shaped Heart

Getting up, going against the white waters.

Getting food, going against the waterfall.

Going against life..

But I can’t go with the flow.. I’ll be washed into the homeless lands

My flow is different than yours.

If I let go, I won’t get up to eat.

If I stop trying, I’ll lay in bed all day forgetting I have a stomach to feed.

But if I keep trying, fighting to live, I suffer.

I don’t even fight to live anymore.

That part of me doesn’t exist/ doesn’t care.

I stopped trying.

I float in this world like a …?

Why should I get a job? Couldn’t I just lay here until I parish in my room? I’m not even worried… I can’t even feel it.

How many times I get a job only to be released a year or less later?

I can’t even do my job right. I lose motivation so quickly because everything’s so corrupted; who in their right minds would stay and kiss up?

What’s the point?

I’m not getting anywhere.

Might as well work a part-time job somewhere in some store.

Do I even want to?

Who cares if I was in sales?

How can an unmotivated person be in sales? I can’t anymore.

All those years of sales experience goes down the drain.

What’s my meaning of life? So far trying to survive. How can that be a purpose for me? Who cares..?

Too many questions, never an answer…

You’re not here.

Stop making me go through this shit. It’s making me want to kill myself.