In the In-Between
This morning I worked through the book — tying in extra journal notes — and found myself losing my temper with AI as I tried to piece it together.
In truth, I made a bigger deal out of it than it needed to be.
I’m not even sure why it all came up.
I got it done.
Then it was leg day at the gym. Brutal.
I couldn’t jog back — I walked, completely spent.
When I returned, the tiny bloody ants were back in the kitchen and bathroom. The same way they were when I first moved here a month or two ago. It upset me then, and it still stirs something now. I know they’re an external illusion, but it’s strange how the “unreal” can still feel so real when you’re inside the experience.
Ammar came to sort them out, but then I tried to hunt down a moon chair — chaos everywhere, crowds moving like they had no direction. The shops drained me; I wandered for over an hour.
Back home, I spoke with Pen, but my focus wasn’t there. I felt disheartened for not being present. My mind just wanted to collapse into my show and rest.
Underneath it all, there’s heartache.
A quiet grief for the life I had before.
I’m in the in-between world now — not yet in what I’m building, not fully out of what I left behind. The future is still unwritten.
I’ve been responding to people on the cleanse.
They’re doing extraordinary work. Their feedback fuels more edits, tweaks, and refinements so the journey feels seamless.
But this work is a mirror.
The parasite cleanse stirs the deepest roots — the fears, the shields, the confusion buried in the unconscious.
People will respond from that space. That’s the point.
This process is designed to bring the darkness to the surface — the hidden parasites of mind and body — so they can be seen, faced, and released.
It’s not always easy to hold space for what comes up.
But that’s the work.
