Galactic Umbra

In my dream about the 1990s and 2000s, there was a lesson about how we had brainrot shoved in our faces from a very young age. It overstimulated us and made us too distracted to think.

This can be seen with Gen Alpha today, where they are so dependent on technology that they have trouble learning. Now the control is different, because they are trying to censor certain information that encourages critical thinking skills rather than overwhelm us with the noise of content.

But I believe this is a message from God about how Satan deceives us with manipulation. He distracts young minds with bright colors and fast-paced culture to hinder their perception. That way, they never question anything, and he can diminish their potential through the apathy of an unseeing society.

I started out thinking I could bag a rich man... but then I realized something. Sex trafficking would end if men abstained from paying for sex workers, but it seems a man's temporary sexual pleasure will always be worth more than the ever-present dignity and bodily autonomy of women in this society.

It's paid for by evil rich men, which is why it won't be ending soon. Because women are often the poor ones who are taken advantage of. Because being poor means being taken advantage of by the rich and being squeezed of all your resources (your time and energy).

tldr: We’re all connected — sometimes your comfort becomes someone else’s roof. ****So lately I've been struggling with toxic pride that comes from masking autism all my life. I always thought of myself as “superhuman and smart” because that’s what I was told. Deconstructing that has been painful, but also freeing.

That’s why I was honored when a boy from Gambia reached out on Instagram. He had two younger siblings, and their parents had just died. At first I thought it was a scam — but I decided to trust him and sent money for food through Remitly. He sent back photos of himself and his siblings with the food, which helped, but I was still skeptical.

Then I noticed his words were too perfect. So I asked him directly: “Why are you using AI to talk to me? Can’t we just have an honest conversation?”

He admitted he didn’t write English well, even though he speaks it. That was why he leaned on AI. My heart melted. His honesty broke down my doubt, and I promised to keep helping.

He sent me pictures of rice bags and was happy, but then another problem surfaced: their roof was leaking before the rainy season. He asked for $400. That’s my entire monthly allowance — all I have for myself as someone disabled and on social security.

At first, I balked. But he sent me a video of his home soaked through, the rice spoiled from rain. I realized this wasn’t just a “want” — it was survival. So I sacrificed my comfort for his roof.

A few days later, he sent pictures of the new roof installed. Safe, dry, grateful. That response humbled me more than I expected.

Then he asked for a new bed. And here’s where I learned: generosity also needs boundaries. I told him no more money this month — except an extra $100 for food. He agreed, thankful for the roof.

This whole experience has shifted something in me. I’ve been humbled. Pride made me think money equaled worth, but sacrifice showed me something deeper. The boy’s care for his siblings, his effort to provide, reminded me that we’re all connected.

I feel deeply—so deeply it defies language. Not for show. Not for proof. It’s just how I exist.

But the world treats my silence like absence, and my depth like exaggeration. So I speak—not to perform, but to protect what they try to erase.

My heart, long distorted by intense darkness, has finally reclaimed its inner space. The darkness—once embedded—has been removed from the sacred core. It now lingers only at the edges, not able to reach and puppeteer my once frightened form. Now I am transformed—for the better.

This transformation wasn’t easy. It required confronting the dark directly, not as an enemy, but as a presence seeking resolution. In the end, the light within proved unshakable. Light cannot be possessed—it can only shine.

The remnant shadow waits outside, no longer able to mislead or inhabit. The journey isn’t quite over, but its purpose is clear: to free the self in service of light.

It’s so exhausting to give so much of yourself to a relationship and gain nothing in return. When I was younger, I cared deeply for my sisters. Maybe that looked too intense to some—too "domineering" during playtime, especially coming from a girl. But the truth is, I wanted to engage with them. I valued the experience. I loved them deeply.

Part of that love came from remembering others like them—from a past life where I lost my sisters to famine.

I would have done anything for them. Take a bullet, even.

But then my mother tore us apart. She forbade them from visiting me, and suddenly I was losing my sisters all over again.

Her control became toxic, and I had to go no contact to survive. Because of that, my sisters lost something too—precious bonding time that can never be returned.

That’s when I learned: it’s dangerous to let your love show too brightly. People will try to snuff it out, twist it, use it. So now I keep my love close and hidden. Not because I don’t feel it—but because it’s sacred. And I won’t let it be taken from me again.

Autistic people do have empathy and care deeply for others. It’s just misunderstood—because it doesn’t look like the neurotypical experience. It can appear as an obsession when really, it’s a deep-seated sentimentality. These feelings are so intense, the body can barely contain them. And when they backfire, the consequences are devastating.

✨ Just a little rant from your local autistic starseed ✨

It really annoys me how the first criticism people throw at the starseed community always seems to target autistic folks. Like, the assumption is that we must’ve been “tricked” into thinking we’re starseeds—because apparently we’re just naïve little babies who can’t think for ourselves 🙄 (hello infantilization, my old enemy).

And of course, it’s always under the sweet little guise of “protecting” us. Please.

There’s also this weird idea floating around that we think we’re perfect and can’t do any wrong? Like… no? We mess up. I’ve made some pretty major mistakes in my journey. I’m flawed. Sometimes the spiritual ego creeps in, sure—but I always come back to remembering: ✨ we are all one ✨ and it’s just not worth being pretentious over.

When you’re a misfit—especially an autistic one—it’s healing to reflect on your own universal fragment and recognize that it’s special. Not better. Just meaningful.

But some people try so hard to spin these narratives about the starseed community without even knowing the lore. They don’t understand which lineages are light or dark aligned, or what it even means to carry galactic memory or mission. They just slap “dangerous cult” on it and call it a day.

My autistic life is valuable, just like a human life where one interacts with all the bugs and the trees. It is not primitive— it is sacred; in all its many facets of sensation.

I do not want to forget this life. I’d rather honor it for the amazing experience it was.

I do not want to ascend above it, but learn from its precious recesses quietly.

Maybe many races wouldn’t understand— not just the Pleiadians. Perhaps it is just a human limitation tied to prejudice, and not a flawed cosmic knowledge. Either way, I felt many times light beings I met did not understand.

At the same time, many do. Which is powerful, and hopeful.

For now, I am alone in this mission to prove my life has meaning.

Which is a ridiculous notion, because my life is free-flowing with radiant light everywhere I go. It used to be that way in an undeniable fashion.

The more I bring light to this concept— that autistic lives mean something more than suffering— the more I’m putting a ray of hope into the universe, bringing us closer to the universal truth that we are all valuable within ourselves despite outward appearances.