Night moves- Bob Seger

The Black Monday The Black Monday

they promised we got

Yea, econ is like a deeper understanding imo, and all those other books are tools to use if you want, but using tools without understanding why is like cutting wood with a saw when you don't know what you're building...or something...I dunno - I'm tired!

Feel free to holla if you wana talk about any of it. Been so long for me I could probs freshen up...but I have a lot of adjacent education and practice as well, perhaps why I haven't been compelled to review.

Yea, econ is like a deeper understanding imo, and all those other books are tools to use if you want, but using tools without understanding why is like cutting wood with a saw when you don't know what you're building...or something...I dunno - I'm tired!

Feel free to holla if you wana talk about any of it. Been so long for me I could probs freshen up...but I have a lot of adjacent education and practice as well, perhaps why I haven't been compelled to review.

I don't really remember what I read, but I took a class in economics that I found quite powerful, then studied macro-econ, and then micro-econ.

Find a good textbook/s on such topics. I wish I could recommend one. If you share some names/isbns I could help provide some context.

What books about money have you read, and why are you looking to read another?

the trick is to keep grinding even when most people think you are retarded

Rather collective wound and experience that every woman had at least once. And few men...

There is nothing nice about the “Nice Guy/Nice Girl/Nice Energy”. It's cloaked in affection, but underneath is nothing but pure control, desperation, and psychic suffocation.

PSYCHIC SUFFOCATION

There is a subtle, sticky, manipulative energy that doesn’t even have a name. No bruises. No threats. No proof. Just a tension in the body. A scream your nervous system whispers while your mind tries to stay polite.

It comes cloaked in affection. Wrapped in concern. Drenched in "just checking in."

It looks like love. It sounds like care. But it feels like static wrapped in sugar.

It wants nothing and everything. It wants to sit next to you long enough that you forget what silence feels like. It wants entry without ever asking permission.

They never say it directly.

Because directness risks rejection.

And rejection confirms the wound they’re trying to avoid.

So instead, they hover. They imply. They guilt. They watch. They wait.

This is an obsession, cloaked in affection. Guilt-tripping, disguised as care. It’s "I’m worried about you" that really means "I’m worried I’m losing access to you."

It’s a slow psychic invasion that builds the illusion of connection so gradually, you don’t notice when it becomes a cage.

They want a love story, but they won’t write it with you.

They’ll try to negotiate it behind your back. Through your friends. Through your silence. Through any opening you leave unguarded.

They don’t know how to generate warmth, so they borrow yours. Leeching joy like a cracked USB cable, plugging into your frequency, hoping it’ll charge the hollow inside them.

This is psychic suffocation.

You feel it in the way your soul goes silent when they message.

In the way your body tightens before your mind can find words.

And that confusion? That’s their entry point.

They count on you being too kind to shut the door.

But this time, you saw it.

You called it by name, even if it had none.

I used to call it love.

Now I call it what it was:

A spell made of sugar and static,

broken by the sound of my own truth.

*Photo by me

This begs the question - of what exactly?