The Stratagem’s Archive

Category: blogging

  • Could We Talk About Relationships?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    — A Gray Space Reflection

    “You are the sum of the five people you hang out with most.”

    — Alux.com

    I saw this quote again the other day — you know the one. It gets shared a lot in self-help circles, in Instagram carousels, in motivational reels from guys in suits sitting in Lamborghinis. It sounds wise at first. Measurable. Self-assured.

    But then I thought:

    If I don’t hang out with anyone… what does that make me?

    A zero?

    A ghost?

    An undefined variable?

    It’s strange how easily we assign worth to people by who they’re next to — as if your value exists only in relation to others. As if the only way to be someone is to be reflected back by someone else.

    So maybe that’s where I’ll start this.

    Not with answers.

    But with a question:

    Could we talk about relationships?

    What I’ve Seen: Love by Fear, Not by Choice

    A lot of the people I know didn’t fall into love — they fell into fear.

    • Fear of being alone.
    • Fear of being the last one single in the group.
    • Fear of being left behind by people getting married, having kids, “moving on.”
    • Some dated because the person they wanted wanted them back, and that felt rare. Others settled because they thought waiting for something better made them ungrateful.
    • Some slept with people they didn’t really like just to feel something.

    And when it all crashed and burned, they called it a “lesson.”

    But sometimes it didn’t look like a lesson.

    It looked like guilt. Shame. Emotional scars. Unspoken resentment. Children brought into situations where no one was ready. And people — both the leavers and the left — trying to claw their way back to some sense of self they lost trying to “belong” to someone else.

    What Gets Projected Onto Me (That Isn’t Mine to Carry)

    As an asexual woman, I’ve had people assume all kinds of things about me:

    That I’m:

    emotionally repressed, broken, lonely scared of intimacy, secretly gay, or just waiting for the “right” person to fix me.

    And none of those assumptions had anything to do with me.

    They were about them.

    Their own fears. Their own confusion.

    I had a coworker tell me that he, “didn’t want me to wake up at age 32, single, unhappy, and lonely.” We’re the same age, separated by months with him being older, and his words felt very specific.

    I called him out on his words, that it sounds like he’s projecting his own fears onto me, and he never brought relationships up again.

    It’s maddening to me with people’s opinions like that: Their discomfort with someone who isn’t playing the same game — who isn’t treating sex or relationships like the final boss level of life.

    It’s hard to explain that I’m not “missing” something.

    That I’m not holding out.

    That I don’t need to be saved from myself.

    The Anime That Got Me Thinking

    I’ve been watching a show recently:

    “There’s No Freaking Way I’ll Be Your Lover!”

    It’s a yuri harem anime on the surface, but underneath the tropes, it dives into something deeper:

    What’s the line between platonic love and romantic love?

    What happens when someone wants closeness — but not romance?

    In one scene, the main character asks a friend:

    “Do you think there’s a difference between friends and a partner?”

    And without skipping a beat, her friend replies:

    “Romantic relationships are best known by if the person turns you on.”

    That line caught me and the main character off guard— because it was so blunt, so sure of itself.

    It made the answer feel easy. Obvious.

    But then I asked myself:

    If that’s the only difference… then how is that not just “friends with benefits”?

    What separates love from lust?

    And if a friendship holds emotional depth, loyalty, vulnerability, and time — what makes it “less than” a relationship without sex?

    Why is physical desire the gold star we stamp on a bond and call it real?

    Where I Stand: Somewhere in the Gray

    I’ve never been in a relationship — and I used to feel , and made to feel, ashamed of that.

    Not because I felt broken or unwanted…

    but because people made me feel like that fact invalidated my ability to speak on love or connection.

    As if watching people I care about suffer through toxic or empty relationships wasn’t enough evidence to say,

    “Hey… maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

    I’m not a relationship expert.

    But I’ve witnessed a lot of people use each other to hide from themselves.

    And I’ve seen what happens when we pretend sex equals intimacy, and loneliness equals failure.

    The truth is, I don’t think romance is the only way people can feel fulfilled.

    And I don’t think friendship is a lesser love.

    Some of the most meaningful, healing, supportive bonds in my life have had nothing to do with desire, but were just as devastating when betrayed by someone we’ve chose to let into our life.

    They had everything to do with presence. Care. Understanding. Even if they didn’t realize it when things fell apart.

    So, Could We Talk About It?

    Not about “just vibes.”

    Not about rom-com tropes.

    Not about timelines and expectations and who-should-do-what.

    But the real stuff. The questions that don’t always have answers.

    Like:

    • Why do we feel behind if we’re not in a relationship?
    • Why does being wanted sexually feel like a badge of worth?
    • Why do we treat friendship like a stepping stone instead of a destination?
    • Why do people project so much fear onto others who live differently?

    And most of all:

    Why does wanting something deeper than “just don’t be alone” feel so rare to find in others?

    Closing the Loop (Not the Door)

    I don’t know if I’ll ever be in a relationship.

    I’m not against the idea — I’m just not willing to chase a fantasy that others sold me when I already know it doesn’t fit.

    But I do want connection.

    I want friendship that isn’t afraid of depth.

    Conversations that don’t flinch at honesty.

    Care that isn’t conditional on performance, or looks, or how well I can play a part I didn’t audition for.

    If you’ve ever felt this way too, I hope you know —

    you’re not broken. You’re not late. You’re not alone.

    Maybe you’re just in a gray space like me.

    And maybe gray spaces are where the most honest questions live.

    What about you?

    Have you ever been in a relationship that wasn’t really about love?

    Or had a friendship that meant more than anything else — but didn’t “count” because it wasn’t romantic?

    You don’t have to agree with everything I’ve written — but if something here stirred something in you, feel free to comment, share, like, subscribe, or sit quietly with me for a while.

    Sharing, liking, subscribing might help others like us find their way to this little quiet, gray space of the internet.

    This blog is a gray space. And gray spaces need voices, needs questions and reflection, not just answers.

    Thank you.

  • What If Becoming Better is Making Us Worse?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    My Journey into “Self Betterment”

    I’ve tried so many things in the name of becoming a better version of myself that it’s been a ridiculous journey. You name it and this isn’t the full comprehensive list:

    • Cold showers.
    • Journaling.
    • Intermittent fasting.
    • Lifting weights.
    • Meditating.
    • Waking up early.
    • Tracking habits.
    • Therapy (though I didn’t know how to be honest back then).
    • Stoicism.
    • Buddhism.
    • Financial planning.
    • SMART goals.
    • Praying.
    • A lot of it!!!

    And for a while, they worked, I felt healthier, stronger, and able to take on the world—until I couldn’t anymore. Why weren’t they working anymore? Great question! The insight I got was pretty simple and straight forward in my opinion.

    These habits weren’t helping me improve my life at all.

    Things would spiral out of control, my anger and resentment and bitterness and my envy would arise whenever I wasn’t keeping up with those habits like so much “Successful people” preached doing.

    When I couldn’t keep up, I vehemently hated myself to the point I would berate myself, tears streaming down my face, red and livid, and I couldn’t stand hearing my own voice.

    When I missed a day, I felt like I was falling apart. That my life was being uprooted again because I had no solid foundation to plant and grow my own roots in where I could be proud, not ready to burn myself at the stake.

    It took me years to reflect, years to stop and reconsider what was going on. Then, it hit me; maybe the issue wasn’t that I was lazy, undisciplined, or doomed to be stuck.

    Maybe the problem was this:

    Self-improvement became a prison when it stopped allowing me to be human.

    The Rigidity of “Better”

    Since starting my journey to be a “better version of myself” back in University, now as I currently am, I noticed that the Self-help culture started sounding like this:

    Wake up earlier. Don’t make excuses. Keep going no matter what. Grind harder. Be grateful. Don’t complain. Smile. Fix your mindset. Work out. Read more. Meditate. Eat clean. Keep up. Don’t fall off.

    It sounds motivating, it sounds like good advice because taking care of ourselves is important—however, it becomes just another script to follow, just another thing to fail at, if we don’t fit the mold like the people peddling the advice expect, the we’re still the failures.

    Even religion sometimes feels this way too: all structure, no grace. At least, from personal experience and interactions with certain people, this was the impression I got.

    I’ve been the type of person who wouldn’t bother much if people, especially in religious settings, were too unforgiving and came across as, “you’re going to hell,” swearing at people and being graceless, then go to pray as though they didn’t mistreat someone for having different beliefs and practices.

    It took me some time to realize that we all contradict ourselves. We all fall short, no matter the setting, beliefs, or practices we follow.

    And, honestly, I could stand to have more of less systems to tell us we’re broken, that we’re failures, if we don’t already tell ourselves this because I do and I stopped doing a lot of these things, these habits, myself.

    I’ve been wondering how much we need room to breathe, since life is already stifling a lot of us as it is.

    To ask: What if I’m not failing? What if I’m just tired? What is this habit really doing for me if things are falling apart and I still have to pick up the pieces?

    When I Miss a Day, I Feel Like I’m Falling Apart

    I was learning to code recently—something I’ve wanted to do for years.

    I stayed consistent for a month, even through exhaustion. But then I hit a wall. I struggled, and I stopped. Just like that.

    Then I heard my inner critic come back with a vengeance, it was so loud:

    “You see? You’re slipping again. You’ll never keep up. You’ll always be the failure you always were and will never get out of your shitty situation.”

    That voice used to win. But now? I’m learning to ignore it.

    Why?

    Because I’m working two jobs, sleeping in my car most mornings to get parking before my warehouse shift, battling back pain that shoots down my leg, trying to eat on a schedule that barely allows for rest, and still—still—I wake up and try again.

    That’s not failure, though it feels like it. That’s survival. That’s strength. Even if it might not seem like it, like I’m slowly killing myself and I’m refusing to stop.

    Even when I have nothing left to give, I can still:

    • Stretch for one minute
    • Sit in silence before I pass out
    • Let my body sleep when it’s ready
    • Forgive myself for what I couldn’t do today

    It doesn’t make me lazy.

    It makes me human.

    I Don’t Want to Be Like “Them”

    There are people out there who seem to have it all figured out—wealth, health, perfect routines, business ventures, large platforms. Some of these individuals, in my eyes, tend to mock people like me: the ones with 9-to-5s, who don’t have a “hustle,” who didn’t invest when they were 16, who are still figuring things out at 28, 29, or 35.

    And yet… I don’t want to be like them.

    They flex success, but rarely acknowledge how much help they had.

    They show certainty, but never talk about the cost.

    I don’t want to pretend to be okay just to look like I’ve arrived.

    I don’t want to shame people into growth by making them feel behind because it’s a shitty feeling added on top of other shitty feelings for not being further along in our own supposed journeys.

    I want to live in a world where being kind to yourself isn’t seen as weakness, but also not being used as a crutch.

    Where becoming better doesn’t mean becoming someone you’re not and becoming like someone else you might not even like or agree with.

    Where falling apart doesn’t mean you’ve failed—it just means you need to rest, adjust, and try a different approach. (Very much like what From Software’s games had taught me to do and apply it in real life).

    The Truth I’ve Learned (The Hard Way)

    You can try every method, practice every habit, and still feel empty inside if you’re doing it from a place of self-loathing instead of self-respect.

    I’m not saying self-improvement is bad. I’m saying it needs space for failure, adjustment, and rest.

    You’re allowed to:

    • Take a break
    • Miss a day (or a week)
    • Not be perfect
    • Not feel like doing it
    • Not optimize every second of your life
    • Question the rules
    • Do things your own way
    • Stop when it hurts

    You don’t need to build a life you hate to prove that you’re capable. You’re already capable, it’s just in ways where trends don’t approve, while you’ve experienced your own kind of Hell and are still marching through.

    Final Thoughts

    I’m still figuring this out. Any of this.

    I still struggle.

    I still feel like a mess everyday.

    I still feel angry, bitter, tired, alone, and afraid that I’ll never “make it.”

    But I’m learning that the goal isn’t to become perfect.

    It’s to become real.

    It’s to build a life that’s sustainable—even in the dark.

    Even when no one’s clapping.

    Even when it’s just you and a blog post at 4 AM, hitting publish, hoping someone understands.

    So if you’re trying—and struggling—to become better, but feel like it’s making you worse…

    You’re not alone.

    You’re not broken.

    You’re just tired.

    And that’s okay.

    So if you’re trying—and struggling—to become better, but feel like it’s making you worse… then it’s time to rest, re-evaluate your situation, and try a different approach, wouldn’t you agree? Just remember this, even for a brief moment:

    You’re not alone.

    You’re not broken.

    You’re likely very tired of a lot of things.

    And it’s okay to realize and say, even to yourself, that, “something isn’t working,” but I can make adjustments as needed because it’s my choice, not because it came from someone else telling me how “wrong” I am.

    If this post resonated with you…

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

  • Writing Through 30 Days and Nights

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    The Compulsion to Reach 30 Consistent Days

    I didn’t do this to go viral.

    I didn’t do this for praise.

    I did it because I had a lot to share and I wanted to see if I could do it.

    30 days ago, I made a quiet decision:

    To show up every day — no matter what happens throughout my day — and write.

    Not for perfection or validation — Just to write.

    To give myself the space to express what the world often ignores, in my opinion, and share it anyways.

    To build something from within the silence and put it out there.

    The Early Days: Lighting Candles in the Dark

    I started this project with uncertainty; Unsure if anyone would read and if I had enough to say.

    But each post, each idea, each sentence was another step forward.

    Not toward a finish line — but toward myself.

    I began this journey with questions, with frustration, with hunger and anger.

    I had something to say, even if it wasn’t always loud or pretty.

    Through Trial By Fire

    There were days I didn’t want to write.

    Days when life pressed down so hard, I wanted to collapse into the ground and stay there.

    But I kept writing. Even when it felt like shouting into a void.

    Even when I was tired, numb, or raging silently behind the screen.

    Not every post was polished. Not every word perfect.

    But they were real. And they were mine.

    What I’ve Learned (Without Realizing It)

    After 30 days, I see it after the fact now:

    I’m stronger than I thought — not because I didn’t feel pain, but because I kept going with it. I’m no longer looking to be saved. I’m building my way out. The silence after hitting “publish” doesn’t mean failure — it means space. For breath. For those who might find it later.

    The Work Still Matters No Matter Where I Am in Life

    I’m still not “free.”

    I still work two jobs that breaks my body physically and emotionally.

    I still write in the cracks between fatigue and survival.

    But now I’ve built something that didn’t exist before.

    That’s proof of life. Of my life.

    This isn’t the end.

    I’m not done.

    But I wanted to mark this moment —

    To say: I proved to myself that I did this. And I’ll keep going as long as I’m able to.

    I’m not trying to glorify this 30 day milestone has been the answer to my problems. It’s not. I’m exhausted, I’m feeling worn down, the voices in my head are screaming at me for how much of a failure I am. However, as much as I don’t believe it myself, I’m too stubborn to not want to see this through. So, seeing this through writing 30 days and nights I go.

    For Those Who Wander

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

    To those reading this — tired, wondering, still searching — this place is for you.

    I call it The Stratagem’s Archive — a place to rest, reflect, and remember that your story still matters.

    No matter how quiet. No matter how heavy.

    You’re welcome here.

    You’re Invited

    If something here resonates with you:

    Leave a comment or share your own experience. Like or Subscribe if you want to follow this journey. Doing so allows people on similar paths to find this space and call it their own too. Or just sit quietly and read. That’s enough, too.

    Thank you for walking with me — even for just a moment.

    We may not always know where we’re going, but if we’re still writing, still working, still getting up, then we’re still alive.

  • Burning the Candle at Both Ends… For What?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    What’s It All For?

    There’s a kind of exhaustion that doesn’t just sit in your bones—it weighs heavily in your soul too.

    The kind that lingers after clocking out. After another post. After another attempt to build something—anything—that feels like yours.

    I’ve been burning the candle at both ends.

    Warehouse job. Part-time job. Training. Writing. Living. Driving. Sleeping. Socializing. Being human.

    And the fire still isn’t enough to light the way forward.

    Sometimes, I wonder: Is this blog another distraction?

    Another scream into the void disguised as “content”?

    Another attempt to feel less alone that goes unnoticed?

    I’ve published nearly 70 articles since June. Some get read and others not so much. I see the quiet readers—and I appreciate them, but I can’t help but wrestle with a deeper question that haunts my already overactive brain: What am I building towards?

    If not towards freedom… then what?

    These thoughts are familiar companions and they can bring up interesting things whenever I don’t think much about things. Letters from the Void Newsletter go into such thoughts, just to think and reflect, and the start of potential conversations too.

    The Illusion of Progress

    I feel like I’m in the Red Queen’s Race—running twice as fast, twice as hard, just to realize I’m still in the same place. Worst still, if the progress I’ve been making (with my blog) was another means of “taking my mind off of things in my life?”

    Saving, writing, training, surviving.

    My body is breaking down while my spirit tries to rise.

    This isn’t laziness. This isn’t a lack of passion.

    It’s just that when every direction still feels like someone else’s road, your own steps start to lose meaning.

    Fighting for Space That’s Supposed to Be Mine

    I have my own living space now.

    But I’m still on someone else’s schedule. Someone else’s payroll. At someone else’s mercy.

    So I ask myself every day:

    • Why do I keep pushing?
    • Why write when it feels like I’m invisible?
    • Why train when I’m already sore?
    • Why try when nothing seems to come of it?

    The answer is brutal, but honest:

    Because I don’t know how to stop.

    Because something inside me still believes there’s more than this.

    This Isn’t Just Hustle — It’s Survival

    I’m not a success story. Not yet. Or maybe not ever.

    But I’m not a failure either. I’m building something out of broken pieces, from sheer boredom, from always asking myself year after year, “Is this it? Is this all life has to offer me?”

    So, I decided, after many years of doing nothing, I finally took action. Not to impress anyone, except maybe myself.

    But because I have to. Because I’d rather live with calloused hands and a tired heart than live as a ghost in someone else’s story. I’ve lived through this narrative long enough that it was time for a change.

    This blog, this life, this path—it’s not neat. It’s not polished.

    It’s scattered like the notebooks on my floor, the thoughts in my head, the aches in my body.

    But it’s mine.

    So What Am I Really Looking For?

    Maybe… not success.

    Not fame.

    Maybe just a little room to breathe.

    To be.

    To exist in a world that moves fast and rewards flash over fire.

    Maybe I’m just trying to prove that I can live without needing someone else’s permission.

    Maybe I’m not alone in that.

    To Anyone Else Burning Out Just to Stay Afloat

    If you feel like this too—this deep, quiet war between exhaustion and hope—I see you.

    You’re not broken because you feel too much.

    You’re not weak because you’re tired.

    You’re not lost because the road is hard.

    You’re still here.

    Still standing.

    Still building.

    And that counts for something.

    Keep the fire alive. Burn for yourself.

    Even if the world doesn’t notice—

    Even if it never claps or calls your name—

    You’re still worth every damn step forward.

    For the Wondering. The Wandering. The Curious. The Weary.

    If you’ve ever felt like you’re running twice as hard and still getting nowhere—

    If you’ve questioned what you’re building, or why you keep going—

    If you’re trying to carve out a life that’s yours in a world that keeps trying to define it for you…

    You’re not alone.

    This space welcomes you in.

    Not to fix you. Not to sell you answers. I don’t have any for myself.

    But to stand beside you in the dark while you light your own way.

    Read. Reflect. Rage. Rest.

    Whatever you need—come as you are.

    Leave when you’re ready. Or stay, and build with me, share this with someone who might be in a similar boat, and doing so allows other like us to find this little pocket of the internet.

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

    If You Are Indeed Curious

    You can check out my other articles or my newsletters just to see what else I talk about. Other than that, I’ll see you next time, fellow archivists.

    Letters from the Void Newsletter

    The Stratagem’s Manifesto

    What Good is “History” If There’s No Future?

    A Quiet Door I’ve Left Open Ajar

    When a Raise Feels Like a Golden Prison

  • What Good is “History” If There’s No Future?

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    “I ended a decade-long friendship, not out of hate, but from a quiet realization: what good is history if no one’s building a future with you? This is for anyone who’s ever been the third wheel in their own friendship — and finally chose to walk away.”

    A Heavy Passing Thought

    My head was throbbing, my body felt like it was burning from the inside out, and depressiveness pulled my mood down while I was at work today.

    I hated that most of my (younger) coworkers were standing around, talking stories, and letting work pile up without a care in the world. They were literally next to me — more focused on their plans, their activities, their friendships and relationships — something I wanted to do too. But, instead of working so we could go home at a decent time, we finished WAY later than hoped.

    Then, someone I knew briefly passed in my mind’s eye. Someone I thought mattered because of how long we knew each other, but only showed how little I mattered.

    I haven’t thought about him in two months.

    That’s how long it’s been since I chose to walk away from a decade-long friendship.

    Not quietly.

    Not with ease.

    But with the weight of years pressing on my back — years I thought meant something, until they didn’t.

    We had “history,” sure. But one morning, under freight that was too heavy for one person while the rest stood around laughing, I realized something:

    What good is history if there’s no future being built in the present?

    It hit me so hard, I wrote it down in the middle of my shift before I forgot.

    When the Scales Are Unevenly Tipped

    This friend — let’s just call him my “supposed best friend of 10 years” — told me he still cared. That our friendship mattered to him.

    But when my family was attacked during a typical gathering, and I needed him most?

    He vanished.

    Not a word.

    Until I reached out 2 weeks later, not about the pain, but about an anime convention we had planned to go to.

    And even then, when we saw each other…

    He clung to his girlfriend.

    Wouldn’t look me in the eye.

    Wouldn’t even walk beside me.

    I would walk ahead of them and then would had to slow down to let them catch up.

    But they always went at their own pace, and never did back their words up with any action. Not physically. Not emotionally. Not once. Just pretty empty words and the likelihood that I was going to accept them as I used to. Keywords: Used to.

    “Busy” Was Too Big of an Ask

    I was the one who initiated our texts about 70-90% of the time. Even when I texted after my friend was off from work, he wouldn’t reply for weeks or even a month later.

    I asked for one thing — a one-word text: “Busy.”

    That’s all. Just something to calm the storm in my head and not me assuming the worst.

    But I was told I was asking too much.

    Told I wasn’t imposing — even as I trailed behind like a ghost, forgotten and unacknowledged, yet in plain sight.

    I Burned the Bridge Because It Was Already Collapsing

    Let me be clear: I didn’t walk away because I was impulsive.

    I walked away because I had already stayed too long in something that no longer respected me.

    Something that stopped including me.

    And once he got what he really wanted — companionship, a girlfriend, even among his already large group of successful friends and mentors and string of one night stands before meeting someone he wanted to build a life with — the friendship became an afterthought. A convenience. A placeholder.

    Just like I became.

    I don’t think he meant to hurt me. But he did.

    And me? I was just always there, even if we lived in different towns connected by texts and D&D Discord sessions. Until I wasn’t.

    Walking Away Hurts. But So Did Staying.

    It took me nearly two weeks after the decision to stop myself from reaching out.

    Another month to find the courage to delete both their numbers for good.

    And now, two months in, I feel the silence. Still. But I don’t regret my decision.

    Because silence from someone who once said, “You matter,” is the loudest answer you can get.

    I refuse to hold onto a friendship that wouldn’t hold space for me back.

    The Shift Was Clear and So Was My Choice

    Even before walking away, I started to rebuild — after I told him I was too busy working 2 jobs, getting little sleep each night, and I’d get back to him when I could. Until I didn’t.

    I was silent for 1 month, and in that time it was the most he ever reached out to me, asking how I was and how living on my own was. That was bothered me, he reached out when I said I’d get back when I could, but I ignored him and kept building my own future.

    It was when I started my blog, grieving alone in my apartment after burying my grandpa and being surrounded by family who wanted nothing to do with us when he passed, while my friend got to keep having fun, being surrounded by friends, while I kept to myself and my work.

    The final straw was when I confronted him when he and his girlfriend came to town for vacation. He only reached out to me because his girlfriend was hanging out with her own friends here, not because he wanted to hang out with me. I was the last resort that he reached out to and I wanted to crush my phone when I read his texts.

    I was livid, I was furious, and the words spilled all over the text when I confronted him, “what are we to each other?”

    He said he needed time to think and I told him he had every right to think things over and to have a nice vacation. I had his number on mute for a while, until that day arrived.

    2 weeks later, he texted back, saying that he still valued our friendship and that he still cared. I laughed so bitterly I couldn’t recognize my own voice. I gave him so many chances to show up when I needed him and he never did when it mattered.

    I never told him about my grandpa’s passing because of how his silence affected me prior to when I told him of my family’s assault.

    I refused to tell him about my blog because experience made me hesitate. He would put some of my work down because he knew someone better equipped and skilled, but I shared a part of myself and had it broken in front of me.

    So, I had enough and left. For good and without explanation.

    For Anyone Who’s Been the Third Wheel to Their Own Friendship

    You’re not crazy for noticing the shift.

    You’re not selfish for asking for presence, for reassurance, for basic care.

    And you’re not wrong for walking away.

    Friendship isn’t measured only in years.

    It’s measured in reciprocity. In effort. In being seen.

    Not with begging to be given scraps of attention, begging your supposed “friend” to include you or accepting that they tell you how you’re “too much” or “asking for too much.”

    After 10 years, and from other past friendships, I realized what I value most in a real friendship:

    • Clear and direct communication.
    • Reciprocity.
    • Respect (as an adult), of my time, efforts, and boundaries.
    • Self-improvement.
    • Authenticity.
    • Accountability of choices and actions.
    • Peace of mind.
    • Shared direction.

    So if you’re holding onto a “history” with someone who stopped showing up in your “now,” ask yourself what kind of future you’re building — and with who.

    Because if they’re not building it with you…

    Then maybe it’s time to start building it without them.

    If you’ve felt this before — the quiet end of a long friendship — this space is for you.

    You don’t need to shrink or explain it away.

    You’re allowed to grieve.

    You’re allowed to rebuild.

    And most of all — you’re allowed to walk away from the people who didn’t choose you, even when you chose them over and over again.

    For Those Who Wander

    To those reading this — tired, wondering, still searching — this place is for you.

    I call it The Stratagem’s Archive — a place to rest, reflect, and remember that your story still matters.

    No matter how quiet. No matter how heavy.

    You’re welcome here.

    You’re Invited

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

    Thank you for walking with me — even for just a moment.

    We may not always know where we’re going,

    but if we’re still writing, we’re still alive.

  • A Sanctuary for the Weary, Wondering, and Wandering

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    No Rest for the Wicked, Weary, and Wild-Hearted Who Just Keep Going.

    There’s no shortage of loud voices out there — telling you how to fix yourself, to work harder, numb certain emotions, workout 7 days a week, take cold plunges, or fit into something you’ve never belonged to. I’ve tried a lot of things.

    Maybe not everything, however, none of the things I tried from mainstream sources made me whole. I felt more fragmented, disorganized, disappointed, and left behind than when I started.

    This Blog Wasn’t Made to Go Viral

    It was built for those of us who are still here — despite the weight, the numbness, the anger, the tired bones, the cracked foundations we’re rebuilding with our own hands.

    If that’s you, then you already understand:

    It’s not weakness to keep showing up — It’s strength. It’s courage. It’s survival. It’s showing up when it counts and matters.

    Maybe you’re looking for answers to your own questions — I’ll be honest and say that you wont find any here. I’m not an expert, I don’t have any answers, and I made this a place that doesn’t demand you to perform or pretend. Just be.

    A place to feel something real.

    To feel a little less alone in the noise of our lives and the expectations we face.

    That’s What This Blog Is

    Not a solution. Not a soapbox. Not a funnel.

    A quiet kind of fight. A refuge. A story in progress. Everything is built while in motion and with little rest.

    You don’t have to comment, like, or subscribe, though doing so helps others like you and me find this place where we can be.

    If something here speaks to you, I hope it reminds you that you’re not alone — even if the world makes you feel that way.

    The weary are welcome here.

    The curious, the angry, the soft-hearted, the heavy-limbed — all of you.

    This is for us, The Fellow Archivists..

    The ones still wandering — but never lost.

    You Heard Me Whisper — And That Means Everything.

    Have You Fully Met Yourself in the Silence?

    Do You Ever Feel Like You’re Writing Into A Void?

  • A Quiet Door I’ve Left Open Ajar

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Fear Grips Me, But I Won’t Let It Win

    Hey there, fellow archivists,

    I wasn’t going to share this yet, however, with how things have been going on this side of the screen, I had nothing to lose, so, I made a page called Open to Collaboration, quietly in the background.

    This isn’t a sales pitch, a networking opportunity, and I’m not pretending that I have everything together.

    It’s just a page that says: here’s what I’ve been building, and if it speaks to you, let’s talk stories— or not.

    That’s fine too.

    As a fellow archivist myself, I wanted to share a few things, if I haven’t mentioned it already:

    • I’ve never had any credentials.
    • I’ve been told my work wasn’t good enough.
    • I’ve been afraid of sharing, asking, or “advertising” myself in ANY capacity.

    Speaking of which, I’ve also been writing non-stop for a few months now, and something in me said, “maybe it’s okay to try something new and open another door of possibilities”.

    So this is me saying: the door’s open.

    If you’re a reader who’s connected with any of what I’ve written — this is where I am:

    Open to Collaboration

    And if not? That’s okay too. I’m still writing. Still here. Still fighting for my own little space in this life.

    If this spoke to you, a quiet nod is welcomed here.

    Quiet Nod

    They remind me I’m not alone in this either.

    Sharing helps others find this space too. That matters more than you know.

    Thanks for reading — as always.

    P.S. If you’ve been afraid of putting your work out there, I get it. I was afraid to hit publish for this post and page, but did it anyways.

    This post is for you to say, “let’s do it anyways.”

    You’re not invisible, even if it feels that way. I can see your light across the void, even if I can’t hear you yet.

  • More Than Muscle: My No-Gym, No-Excuse Home Setup

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Life Outside of the Gym Setting

    Most people go to the gym for more than just equipment. It’s the energy, the people, the buzz — the sense that you’re part of something. I get that. I used to train in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and felt that same rush — sparring, learning, getting my face shoved into the mat, and still getting back up. There’s a kind of community there that makes you feel like you belong.

    But life doesn’t always let you belong.

    Pain, exhaustion, work, debt, and the kind of schedule that doesn’t give a damn if you’re sore or soul-tired — those are real. So instead of wishing for a better time or waiting for a perfect gym, I’ve built a home setup that fits my life as it is — not the life I wish I had.

    This is strength — to me, it’s not the numbers I lift, but the fact that I still show up, even when my lower back flares up with acute and electric pain shooting up and down my left leg.

    My Apartment Friendly Home Gym

    No, I don’t have a power rack or squat bar. I’m not looking for “absolute strength.” Anymore at least. What I want is to feel good in my body again — powerful, capable, like I’m a character out of the games I love:

    • The Tarnished from Elden Ring.
    • Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey.
    • The Hunter from Bloodborne.
    • Wolf from Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice.

    Characters who don’t just survive — they move, they fight, they climb, they persist, they endure and thrive, even starting out as faceless nobodies at the ending of a life changing event or in the middle of it.

    I train to feel like I can handle whatever the world throws at me — physically and mentally, even with my current limitations because life tends to beat you until you’re within an inch of your life, no matter what you do and don’t do.

    Here’s What I Have For My Set Up

    • 25–35 lb sandbag – For squats, rows, carries, and controlled chaos
    • Kettlebells (10–30 lbs) – Versatile and easy to grip for swings, squats, and more
    • High dip bars – Bodyweight rows, dips, and pushups with range
    • Resistance bands – Mobility, control, and variety without weights
    • 8 lb weighted vest – Makes everything harder and humbles you fast
    • 2.5 lb ankle/wrist weights – Subtle burn, especially for rehab-style days
    • Foam roller – For recovery and mobility sessions Mindset – The 2nd most important thing in the room
    • Myself — the MOST important thing in the room.

    Since I also live above people, I have to make adjustments and choose appropriate workouts, so ballistic movements (like jumps) are out — but likely anyone can still get strong no matter their circumstances and restrictions.

    A Glimpse into My “Routine” — If You Can Call It That

    Today, after a long shift and traffic that tested my last nerve, I came home and:

    • Washed dishes
    • Threw tomorrow’s steak in the fridge to defrost
    • Picked up my sandbag and knocked out: 2 sets of sandbag squats 2 sets of sandbag rows

    Was it a “full workout?” Maybe not. But it was something. My journal has been filled with “rest days” lately, but today I reminded myself that I don’t need to be perfect — I just need to keep going.

    Some days, it’s:

    Pushups and bodyweight squats Sandbag carries or deadlifts Follow-along yoga (especially on flare-up days)

    I’m doing what I can until I can do more — boxing, parkour, rock climbing — and anything else I’ve been eyeing from a distance to compliment my wrestling and BJJ experience.

    This Regime Isn’t About Aesthetic or Approval

    I don’t train to look pretty. I never cared for makeup or the kind of attention I didn’t ask for. I train to earn the respect I don’t get just for existing. I train to feel comfortable in this body that’s carried pain, loss, anger, and fire for years.

    I don’t believe strength has to mean lifting more weight and just building absolute strength. There’s more to life than that. Sometimes, it’s lifting again — even after days, weeks, months, hell even years, that tried to kill your spirit, body, and break your mind.

    In Conclusion

    You don’t need a gym to be strong.

    You need a reason — even if that reason is rage, pride, spite, or the quiet belief that maybe, just maybe, you’re not done yet.

    For my recurring and quiet readers:

    What’s does strength look like, feel like, to you?

    Not the strength people keep shoving into your face when you don’t agree with it or what people say it is — what it actually means to you.

    You don’t have to comment. But if you’re reading this in silence, still breathing, still getting up, still moving — I see you.

    And if you’re building your own training setup, small or scrappy or silent — tell me about it. Or don’t. Just keep going. That’s enough.

    If this spoke to you, leave a comment — I actually read them. They remind me I’m not alone in this either.” Sharing helps others find this space too. That matters more than you know.

    — The Stratagem’s Archive

    More Than Muscle: What Real Strength Looks Like to Me.

    It’s All Perspective: On Writing, Struggle, and Using the Tools That Keep Me Going

    Trunk Logic: Thoughts From the Pre-Shift Void

    Thank You + Free Download

    Letters from the Void Newsletter

  • It’s All Perspective: On Writing, Struggle, and Using the Tools That Keep Me Going

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Experience Comes From Trying and Learning

    There’s something I’ve come to realize lately — not from books or courses or advice I didn’t ask for — but from surviving, from showing up, from trying to keep a piece of myself alive while everything else demands more than I have to give:

    It’s all perspective.

    That phrase has sat with me for a while now, especially as I try to write every day — even while juggling two jobs, physical pain, emotional exhaustion, and a gnawing voice in the back of my mind asking, “Does any of this even matter?”

    Some days I barely have the mental bandwidth to string thoughts together, but I still want to write.

    To say something real. To feel like I still exist.

    So yes — I’ve turned to AI for support.

    Not for shortcuts.

    Not for followers.

    But for structure — for help when my brain feels like scrambled code and my mind is too full of fog to hold up the weight of full paragraphs. Even a sentence is difficult a lot of the time for me to come up with on my own.

    What People Know VS What I Think

    There’s a lot of noise out there.

    People talk about AI like it’s the death of creativity.

    Like using any tool that doesn’t come “purely” from your own brain is some kind of cheat code.

    But I don’t see it that way.

    I’m not giving up my voice.

    I’m not handing over the wheel.

    I’m collaborating with something that helps me keep the engine running on days I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone write a post that feels clear, coherent, and worth sharing.

    It’s not perfect.

    But it’s honest and it has helped me share the ideas swirling around in my head, even after working literally all day and commuting between jobs.

    And if someone wants to judge that from their high horse of energy, time, and privilege?

    Let them.

    They don’t know my hours.

    They don’t live my life.

    Perspective Is a Lens, Not a Law

    It’s wild how much meaning shifts depending on how you look at something.

    A break can be seen as quitting — or as healing. A tool can be seen as cheating — or adapting. A slow pace can be seen as lazy — or as deliberate. Asking for help can be seen as weakness — or as strength that refuses to drown silently.

    Perspective isn’t fact — it’s just the angle you’ve been taught to look from. And if that angle doesn’t serve me anymore, I have every right to shift it.

    I’m Still the One Holding the Pen

    Here’s the truth:

    When I use AI to help build a draft, I still have to read it, cut it, reshape it, rewrite it to match the truth in my chest.

    I delete what doesn’t feel right and what isn’t true for me. Then, I add what only I can say.

    And sometimes I just stare at the screen for a while, exhausted, and let the structure be enough until I can fill it with more.

    That’s not giving up.

    That’s surviving the storm while still finding time to

    write a sentence, or ten, or none at all.

    Keep Showing Up, However You Can

    If you’ve ever felt like your creative spark flickers under the weight of your job, your body, your past, or the expectations placed on you — I get it.

    I’m in it too.

    But don’t let anyone shame you for using whatever tools, habits, rituals, or support systems you need to stay in the fight.

    I’ve seen enough of it through PVP — Player versus Player games like, “Elden Ring”, where certain players think using the tools IMPLEMENTED IN THE GAME is considered “cheating” or “ruining the game.” (If you know, you know).

    Whether that’s AI, notebooks full of scribbles, or writing at 2AM when the world is quiet enough to think — it’s yours.

    Your voice doesn’t become less yours because you get help shaping it.

    This isn’t about perfection. This is about persistence.

    And if perspective changes everything, then maybe it’s time to stop looking at yourself through the lens of people who never tried to understand you in the first place.

    Did any part of this sit with you?

    If you’ve ever felt the same — or even something close — you’re not alone.

    I’d love to hear what came up for you, if you feel like sharing. Whether it’s a quiet “me too,” a story of your own, or just a thought you’ve been holding, the comments are open — and so am I.

    No pressure, no performance. Just space

    Whether you write by hand, by heart, or with a little help — I see you.

    If you’re using tools to stay afloat, what helps you show up in your work or creativity?

    Share your thoughts in the comments, or keep them to yourself — either way, I hope you keep going.

    Fellow Archivists, welcome, as always.

    If you’d like to see the inspirations of this post, check out my other articles on what I think about AI below.

    Learning to Work With A.I. — Not Let It Think For Me

    A.I. Was Taking Over My Writing Life — I Had to Pull Myself Back

    Quarantine Life: In The Confines of Comfort: Idea #1:

    Otherwise, if this spoke to you, leave a comment — I actually read them. They remind me I’m not alone in this either. Sharing helps others find this space too. That matters more than you know.

  • Trunk Logic: Thoughts From the Pre-Shift Void

    “Reflections from the trunk of my car, before work: Is life just a social experiment we never signed up for? Thoughts on change, rebellion, and small comforts.”

    — The Stratagem’s Archives

    P.S:This post was originally shared with my (newsletter) subscribers first.

    If you’d like to get these thoughts directly (and occasionally earlier), you can subscribe through my blog — no spam, no pressure, just quiet dispatches from wherever life finds me to your inbox.

    Welcome — However You Found Your Way Here

    Is Life One Huge Social Experiment We Didn’t Know We Consented To?

    I’ve been sitting with a question lately — the kind that shows up uninvited when the world goes quiet.

    Does being alive — and being human — feel like a massive social experiment no one remembers signing up for?

    Because, to me, sometimes it does.

    Like every day, we’re thrown into a loop of expectations, roles, metrics, and mantras.

    “Go with the flow.”

    “Stay positive.”

    “Work hard. It’ll pay off.”

    But… what if none of this is flowing? What if we’re all silently breaking under the same pressure but pretending it’s fine because we think it’s just us?

    We have the opportunity to experiment every day — with our choices, ideas, preferences, energy, moods, hopes, the topics we write about and how, with anything really. Maybe not with as much leeway or legroom as we’d like.

    Believe me, I’ve been sleeping curled up in my car for 2 years now and finally decided to try something new.

    However, rarely do we change what matters. We tend to stick to habits, even when they no longer help us in any way, because they are familiar. We don’t always shift the experiment to our liking and, while not always on purpose, I’m convinced that everyone is the control group of this experiment.

    If we don’t try something even slightly different, then we wonder why the results we get are never changing.

    A Small Personal Experiment

    Before my shift today, I tried something different — not profound, just practical. I brought my iPad with me to work on my blog more, I’ve stayed up longer than normal where I’d usually be napping, then I laid down in the trunk of my car with my legs stretched into the main body of the vehicle.

    It’s not poetic. My trunk is full of junk. I’ll probably hit my head when I sit up.

    But this was more comfortable than curling up in the back seat or sleeping with my legs towards the trunk instead.

    Plus, this was more private too.

    And, for a brief moment, it felt like I had control over one small part of my day. Like I had outsmarted the discomfort in a world that tells me to just deal with it.

    I don’t want to keep “dealing with it.”

    That tiny act of rebellion — of laying differently, of doing what worked better for me — reminded me:

    Even when we don’t control the experiment, we can still change how we respond to it.

    If You’re Reading This…

    You don’t have to sleep in your car trunk to know what I’m talking about.

    If you’ve ever asked yourself:

    • Why does life feel like a loop I didn’t choose?
    • Why am I so tired of trying to “stay positive” when nothing’s changing?
    • What small thing can I try today to feel a little more like a person instead of a cog?

    Then you’re already running your own experiment. You’re already adapting and resisting in quiet ways.

    Want More Like This?

    This post started as part of my newsletter, where I share things that don’t always make it to my blog — the stranger thoughts, the in-between reflections, and the moments written in silence before work.

    If that sounds like something you’d want more of, then I’d like to invite you to click subscribe wherever you see the button.

    No pressure, no spam. Just one fellow archivist sending notes to another.

    Some Reflections to Consider

    If life is a social experiment — what kind of subject would you want to be?
    Someone who repeats the patterns they were handed?
    Or someone who quietly tweaks the design, even if no one’s watching?

    You don’t have to comment.

    You don’t have to share.

    But it does help other people find this space; I’m slowly building from the ground up and make it a space for the weary, angry, wondering, and wandering souls out there.

    Final Thoughts

    “Maybe life is a social experiment going insane, but that doesn’t mean I have to go insane too.”

    Thanks for reading,

    — The Stratagem’s Archive