Chaos and Charm

Listen—
I’m doing the work.
I journal. I breathe. I even let things go.
(Ok, not everything, but like… a few things.)

But every now and then, someone decides to test me,
and my higher self has to physically hold my lower self back like,
“Girl. Not today. We’re trying to evolve.”

Because healing doesn’t mean I turned into a saint.
It just means I take a beat before I react—
a short beat, maybe like half a second—
but it still counts.

I’ve got palo santo burning, crystals charging, and boundaries in place,
but let somebody come for me sideways,
and suddenly I’m one deep breath away from my unbothered era collapsing.

I meditate. I manifest.
But apparently, people keep volunteering to be lessons I did not sign up for.
Like—why must my personal growth depend on your nonsense?
There are much easier ways to reach enlightenment, I’m almost positive. I think.

And sure, I could rise above.
I could take the high road.
But have you been on the high road?
No snacks. No music. Just reflection and regret.

So no, I’m not holy.
I’m healing.
There’s a difference.

I can set boundaries and roll my eyes.
I can forgive you and block you.
I can wish you peace and hope you trip just a little—
not enough to get hurt, just enough to think.

Because peace doesn’t mean I lost my spark.
It means I know exactly when to walk away
and when to let karma clock in on my behalf.

So yeah, I’m healing.
But please don’t mistake my quiet for softness—
it’s just me giving the universe a head start.

Healing takes time. Holy takes miracles.
And baby, we’re still under construction.