I DON'T WANT YOUR SELF-HELP — I WANT YOUR SURRENDER

Listen up, you beautiful disaster. You're not lost - you're exactly where the universe wants you to be: face-down in the cosmic mud puddle of your own making. And I'm here to tell you that's perfectly fucking fine.

You want to know about modern life? It's a three-ring circus where everyone's a clown but nobody's laughing. You're juggling your daddy issues with one hand and swiping Tinder with the other, while some tech bro guru tells you to manifest abundance through crystal-activated blockchain meditation.
But here's the thing: I don't care about your journey to enlightenment. I care about your descent into glorious chaos.

You see, Los Angeles isn't a city - it's a shared hallucination where every sunset is an Instagram filter for your existential crisis. We're all out here playing spiritual Halloween, dressed up in personalities we borrowed from TED talks and therapy podcasts.

Want real power? Stop pretending you don't want it. My clients come to me thinking they need "boundaries" and "healing." What they really need is permission to be the magnificent monster they already are. Think less "mindful meditation" and more "mindful manipulation." But with style. With grace. With the kind of raw charisma that makes people want to burn their life down just to warm their hands in your flames.

You're not afraid of intimacy - you're afraid of how good you are at avoiding it. Those trust issues? They're your survival instincts doing jazz hands. That imposter syndrome? It's just your ego having performance anxiety.

Let's talk about sex, because that's what you really want to know about. Not the vanilla self-help "love yourself" bs. I'm talking about the kind of connection that feels like psychological parkour. The art of being emotionally unavailable while remaining physically irresistible. It's a special kind of power, making people crave your absence as much as your presence.

And relationships? They're just temporary autonomous zones where we play-act at permanence. Your polyamory isn't progressive - it's prehistoric. We're all just cavemen with credit cards, trying to finger-paint our way through intimate connections with fingerless gloves on.

But here's the secret they don't want you to know: none of this matters, and that's what makes it magnificent. Your neuroses are your superpowers. Your damage is your brand. Your chaos is your calling card.

I don't want to fix you. I want to watch you set yourself on fire and sell tickets to the show.

So stop gripping that rearview mirror like it's a life raft. The past is just badly written fan fiction of your life. The future? It's a Nigerian prince email scam. The present is all we've got, and it's a hell of a lot more interesting when you stop trying to make sense of it.

Welcome to the shit show. Admission is free. Your soul is the collateral.
And trust me - I don't care if you trust me. That's what makes me trustworthy.

All that plus a postcard from friend of the show Helena the Brit!

Join us. It's time to stop surviving and start seducing life itself.

Got something to say to me? Slide into the DMs.

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