The lies keep old scripts written. Words allow them to be alive.

Truths are spoken, however in order for truths to be spoken there has to be an equal acceptance of hearing such truths. And let’s be honest—most of us treat hearing the truth like taking a cold shower in January. We claim we want "clarity" and "light," but the moment reality shows up with a mirror, we suddenly remember we left the stove on.

​And here is the harsh truth: We awaken our spirit if the belief is taken away from the lies we tell ourselves. We love to blame external factors for our spiritual coma—our exes, the algorithm, mercury in retrograde. But the most elaborate, award-winning fiction isn't on Netflix; it’s running on a loop inside our own heads. ​The lies keep old scripts written. Words allow them to be alive.

​Every time you repeat that ancient narrative—"I'm just bad with people," "I'll start being honest with myself next Monday," "It's fine, everything is fine"—you’re basically funding the theater production of your own delusion. You are literally giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a ghost that should have faded out three plot lines ago.

​So, how do we actually edit the script?

​Stop feeding the dialogue: When an old, self-defeating line pops up in your head, don't give it a stage or a spotlight. Let the silence be awkward.

​Open your ears before opening your mouth. And know, accepting the truth hurts for about five minutes. Living the lie hurts for fifty years. Pick your poison.

​Starve the drama: If a belief relies entirely on you repeating a lie to keep it alive, let it starve. The moment you stop auditioning for your past, the script falls apart—and the spirit finally gets some breathing room.

Here is my question: ​What’s a lie you caught yourself reciting recently that you finally decided to cancel?

Because dropping the old script isn’t about becoming a perfect, composed guru overnight; it’s just realizing you were the one holding the pen all along. Enlightenment isn't some dramatic, blinding flash of light—it’s simply the quiet, hilarious relief of finally putting down a heavy lie you were never required to carry.