p. l. p.

there’s something unshakable about a person who walks in their power. not in the loud, forceful kind of way but in the quiet confidence that comes from knowing who they are & what they’re here for. real power isn’t about controlling anyone else, it’s about mastering yourself. it’s the ability to move through the world rooted, self-aware, & unbothered by outside noise. it’s staying solid in your truth even when everything around you tries to pull you out of it.

love, when it’s real, doesn’t weaken that power, it deepens it. the right kind of love doesn’t drain you, it pours into you. it pushes you to grow, softens your guard, & reminds you that even strength needs a safe place to land. it’s not just romance; it’s support, it’s presence, it’s patience. love adds color to purpose. it gives the journey meaning. because as much as we chase success or independence, deep down, we all crave someone to share it with. someone who sees us, believes in us, & rides with us through it all.

purpose is what wakes you up in the morning. it’s that internal fire that keeps burning even when things get hard. it’s not always loud or clear, sometimes it reveals itself slowly sometimes through the pain, through the people we meet, through the passions that won’t leave us alone. when you know your purpose, you move differently. you stop chasing empty things & start aligning with what actually matters.

when power, love & purpose come together, it’s different. you become a force. unstoppable not because you’re perfect, but because you’re anchored. you know your worth, you love with intention, & you’re moving toward something real. not everyone will understand it. some will fall off, some won’t be ready but you’ll keep going because you know what’s on the line. peace. fulfillment. legacy.

this life is too short to move aimlessly. be intentional. lead with love. protect your power. chase what sets your soul on fire. because when you finally align with what’s meant for you; when your heart, your mind & your mission are all locked in, that’s when you become untouchable.

-rl

the bear

i’ve been showing up every day trying to make something out of the wreckage. that’s what it feels like sometimes — like i’m rebuilding a place that burned down with my name still spray-painted on the wall. it’s not just about the work it’s about the weight behind it. the voices in my head saying “you should be further” or “this isn’t enough” or worse, “you’re not enough.” no one talks about how loud that gets when everything around you finally starts looking like it’s coming together.

people see the surface — they see promotion, progress, maybe even confidence. but they don’t see the nights where your mind won’t stop racing, where every mistake you’ve ever made starts playing on loop, louder than your wins. they don’t see you staring at the clock at 2 am, dissecting a conversation you had ten hours ago wondering if you handled it right. they don’t feel how heavy it gets when the bar you set for yourself keeps getting higher, & you don’t even know if you’re chasing growth or punishing yourself anymore.

i carry a lot of pressure. not from anyone else, but from me. from what i expect, from what i refuse to settle for. i want to be excellent. i want to build something real. but there are days where i wonder if it’s coming from a place of passion or if it’s coming from fear — fear of slipping back into the version of me that was lost, or broke, or quiet when he should’ve spoken. i’ve been him before & i swore i wouldn’t go back.

but you still feel him some days. in the doubt. in the silence after a long shift. in the way your body tenses up when something goes wrong. you fight him with routine with discipline with drowning yourself in the work. you try to find control in chaos because you couldn’t control the things that shaped you. & maybe that’s okay maybe it’s not about escaping your demons but learning how to cook with them in the kitchen without letting them burn the whole place down.

i don’t know if i’m doing it right. i don’t know if i’ll ever feel fully healed or fully seen. but i show up. i care. i try to give a shit even when giving a shit hurts. & maybe that’s what it means to fight through it — not to be perfect, but to keep showing up when you’d rather disappear. to keep building, even when all you ever learned growing up was how to survive the collapse. maybe i’m not building a dream. maybe i’m just trying to prove i deserved better than before.

-rl.

still got your light

read this if you’re tired but still here

june. men’s mental health awareness. but this isn’t a holiday. it’s a pulse check. it’s for the ones who never speak but feel too much. the ones who keep it together for everyone else but fall apart when the room goes quiet.

this is for you. not the version people see. the real you. the one who’s been carrying more than anyone knows. who shows up, works hard, keeps smiling—even when something inside’s been breaking for a while.

read this slow. your worth is not in your status. not in what you’ve lost. not in how quiet you’ve been about the pain. your worth was never meant to be measured by struggle. you are not a broken thing that needs fixing. you are someone who’s learning how to breathe again. how to feel again. how to live without pretending it’s all okay.

& if you’ve ever felt like you were drowning in your own silence—I’ve felt that too. not for attention. not for sympathy. just truth. i’ve sat in that space where sleep doesn’t help & nothing sounds right. but i made it through. & so will you.

this world won’t always give you space to feel but that doesn’t mean you stop feeling. you don’t have to numb yourself to survive. you don’t have to wear a mask to be loved. you don’t have to keep shrinking to fit what they expect.

you still got your light. even if it’s dim. even if it’s buried. even if you forgot it was there.

you are not behind. you are not too much. you are becoming.

this month, don’t just survive. choose to show up—for you. because when you find your light again the world won’t know what to do with it.

but you will.

-rl.

pour into you 1st.

there’s power in choosing you. not in a selfish “nobody else matters” kinda way—but in that quiet, grounded type of knowing… that your peace, your worth, your energy? it’s gold. people gon’ talk, switch up, come & go—but the way you see yourself? that’s what sets the tone. don’t wait for someone else to recognize your value before you start moving like you already got it.

every time you show up for you—whether it’s protecting your space, saying no, or just giving yourself a damn break—you’re teaching the world how to treat you. & real talk, some people won’t like that. they were cool with the version of you that dimmed down, played small, stayed quiet. but self-love ain’t about being liked. it’s about being real. standing in your skin, flaws & all, like “yeah, this me… & I’m still dope.”

stop letting people who don’t even know themselves tell you who you are. they don’t live your battles. they don’t carry your story. they don’t see the work it takes just to wake up & keep pushing some days. most of the noise is just their own insecurity screaming out loud. but you? you’re still standing. still growing. still here. & that ain’t by accident. there’s purpose in your presence—don’t let ‘em make you forget that.

keep pouring into you. fill up in ways that make your soul breathe—alone time, new goals, music, sunlight, whatever feeds that inner fire. don’t wait for the world to give you permission to be whole. you don’t gotta earn your own love. you are the love. & when you move from that place? you’re untouchable. undeniable. people can feel when you’re rooted in real.

so if you’re sitting there wondering if you’re doing enough, if you’re becoming who you’re supposed to be—breathe. you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. not broken, not behind, just becoming. all that pain, all those lessons? they’re shaping something strong as hell. stay with you. bet on you. love loud, heal honest, & never fold. you’re not here by mistake—you’re here ‘cause you’re built for it.

the incredible true story

there’s something wild about being human in a world that never stops moving. we grow up thinking we’re supposed to have it all figured out by a certain age—like success, love, & peace come with instructions. but life doesn’t work like that. it’s messy. it’s uncertain. it bends you, breaks you, builds you back up. & somewhere in all of that chaos, you start to learn what really matters. not money. not fame. not being perfect. it’s about being real. it’s about becoming someone you can actually be proud of.

i used to think the goal was to reach some final destination—like happiness was a place, & one day i’d just arrive there. but what if the journey is the destination? what if the late nights, the heartbreaks, the quiet breakthroughs are the actual story? we spend so much time waiting for the moment things make sense, that we forget—this is the moment. every second you choose to keep going when it would’ve been easier to quit, that’s growth. that’s purpose. that’s you writing your own incredible true story.

people will tell you what you should be, how you should act, what lane to stay in. but the truth is—none of them are you. nobody else has your voice, your vision, your scars, or your reasons. so don’t shrink for anybody. don’t dilute your dreams just because they seem too big. you don’t need permission to be who you are. you just need courage. the kind that says, “i don’t have all the answers, but i’m still showing up.”

i’ve learned that peace doesn’t always come easy—but it’s always possible. it lives in the way you talk to yourself. in the way you show up for people. in the way you keep hope alive, even when everything around you feels heavy. & sometimes, peace is just knowing you made it through something you never thought you’d survive. that’s strength. not loud, not flashy—just steady. honest. real.

so here we are—on this spinning planet, trying to make sense of it all. trying to find meaning in the madness. & maybe that’s the point. maybe we’re not meant to have it all figured out. maybe we’re just meant to live fully, love deeply, & never stop becoming. because this—every tear, every triumph, every quiet moment of clarity—is part of the incredible true story we’re still writing.

rl