Stressed Yet Blessed in who knows me better than myself?

 Dear God,

Erica is out of my life for good. I literally just blocked her—for good.

We were talking, and she told me that I always talk about my looks and that I “gaslight” her. When I asked her for an example of when I had gaslighted her, she said it’s like when someone tells you something about your music and you twist it into something else. I honestly don’t even remember ever having a conversation like that, and she couldn’t give me a specific example or time. She just got angry. Her rage resurfaced again—and then it hit me: she’s never going to change.

She’s always going to make me feel bad because she’s still hurt that I never loved her back. That resentment is still so strong that it seeps out from time to time.

This is how the conversation went:

Me: Someone told me I had a pretty face today.

Erica: Oh.

Me: I felt bad when you told me I looked like someone, and I didn’t feel like I looked anything like her. Usually, when someone tells me I look like someone, I wish it were someone who looks way better than me so I can feel flattered.

Erica: So you’re saying you look better than my cousin?

Me: I didn’t know that was your cousin.

Erica: You always talk about your looks, and now you’re saying my cousin doesn’t look good?

Me: I didn’t know you were showing me a picture of your cousin, Erica.

Erica: You always talk about your looks, and you’re always gaslighting.

Me: Gaslighting? When have I gaslighted you?

Erica: You gaslight everything.

Me: When have I ever gaslighted you?

Erica: All the time.

Me: Name one incident.

Erica: It’s everything.

Me: Like what?

Erica: EVERYTHING.

Me: Name one time!

Erica: It’s like your music…

(Then she said something I didn’t understand at all.)

Me: This is too stressful. It feels like a booby trap. I can’t say anything without being judged. Why talk to you if there’s always going to be an argument?

Then she hung up on me. I blocked her afterward.

It was hard, but I know it was for the best. I wanted to be her friend—but I don’t want a friend like that. I deserve someone I can talk to without everything turning into an argument.

Goodbye for good, I guess.

I’ve been saying goodbye to a lot of people. First Scott, now Erica, and maybe Joshua next. Joshua is someone who always encourages me to smoke. I don’t need that in my life either.

So I guess this is the ending phase—removing the toxicity from my life. It hurts, but it doesn’t work to keep people who drain me. I even think Lucy may be next. She got upset because I don’t want to spend time at her house, which is 40 minutes away. She’d rather not talk on the phone if we can’t hang out in person.

Debra… I sometimes feel like she talks to me just to see updates in my life—but maybe that’s unfair. She at least sends me prayers every day.

I need to be okay being alone until the right people come along.

I will say this: I will not let the end of Erica and me go to waste. I will forever change one thing about myself. I will absolutely never talk about my looks—or anyone else’s looks—to anyone on this planet ever again. Not even if asked, unless it’s my mom or a medical professional.

I never want to be perceived as a narcissist. Erica never called me that, but she said I talk about my looks a lot—and I admit that I do. Even when I talk to You, Father, I mention my looks, but only because I want to improve and take care of myself. You say in the Bible to treat the body like a temple. Still, from now on, I’ll keep those thoughts to myself.

I came home and tried to watch my favorite show, And Just Like That. I couldn’t even make it two minutes. It’s just not the same without Samantha. So instead, I’m going to watch The Substance. How fitting—watching that movie after an argument with Erica.

I’m already mourning her—not because I want her back, but because I don’t have any girls left to talk to. Only Debra remains, and even that feels fragile. I complain too much, and she doesn’t deserve that.

Tomorrow is already Saturday. Week one gone, one more week before returning to work. I’ll work for one week, then officially quit. After that, I’ll have five days to rest and prepare: five weeks of outfits for training, my photoshoot and vlog outfit, and packing any last-minute things. Those five days will be crucial in setting up my life before it changes forever.

I know spending a week with Shervy will be stressful. No baths unless I scrub the tub myself—but at least I’ll have a car. I’ll spend time at the movie theater, drive to the beach, get beauty treatments, work out, and sit in cafés around Beverly Hills to avoid him. I know him well—he’ll act weird for no reason.

I already spoke to my therapist about what to do if he tries to kiss me. I’ll simply say, “I’m not ready for that.” Honestly, he’ll probably be too scared anyway.

I’ll just try my best to make him comfortable. Maybe I’ll cook for him. He likes pasta—maybe fettuccine, homemade pizza, or rice and vegetables. I don’t really know what will make him happy. Maybe I can start collecting small trinkets and leave a new one on his pillow each day—just something to make him smile. I want him to feel happy that I’m there.

I’ve been thinking about hiring a videographer to follow me for a day—headshots, a hike, grocery shopping, cooking, ending the vlog in bed. I don’t know. It would cost about $1,000. It might be smarter to buy Final Cut Pro and ask the videographer to teach me instead. I’ll meditate on this until You guide me.

I haven’t used Shervy’s card today. I spent $20 on food—breakfast and dinner. I need to figure out how not to buy food for a month and stretch my money. I only have $10 cash for laundry tomorrow. I really need to get my finances together.

My main objectives this weekend:

• Finish my mixtape for the studio session tomorrow
• Purchase my DC trip
• Prepare my small claims case
• Organize my apartment

My place is a mess—boxes everywhere. I still feel bad about the mouse. I’m grateful I haven’t seen or heard it, but the thought of a mouse—or a family of them—makes me sad.

One of my friends from my music reached out. He’s a fan and flirts a little, but I think he values the friendship more. He keeps trying to get me to visit him in North Carolina, but I don’t have that kind of money. I think people assume I have “celebrity money.” He believes in me so much. Like everyone else, he’s fascinated by my age. The internet says whatever it says—I don’t care.

Jesus, I just need You tonight. I need peace of mind.

I’m not hungry anymore. I had a few bites of a burger and fries and stopped. Knowing when to stop eating feels important right now.

Another key is having the drive to work out. I’m too tired tonight, but tomorrow morning I’ll put on my workout clothes and go straight to the gym.

I thought about smoking today, but I didn’t want to go backward. I remembered what my therapist said—to keep it recreational, maybe only in the studio. I don’t think I should ever smoke in public. It doesn’t align with the woman I want to be—and my lips are finally pink. I just need to chill.

I’m excited to work on music tomorrow. I can’t wait to be fully immersed.

Tonight is bath, bed, and a movie. It’s only 7 p.m., so I’ll finish by 9 and hopefully be asleep by 9:30. I’ll take a sleeping pill so I can rest through the night.

When work ends, I’m going to work like a soldier. I’ll create choreography for each song so I can teach my dancers myself. That’s the only way I can do it. I need the steps engraved in my brain so I can audition dancers for my show.

Britney Spears inspired this—she taught her dancers every move for her Vegas residency. That’s what I want too. A residency. One place. No touring. That way I can focus on acting at the same time.

If I had it my way, I’d create my own show in Las Vegas, hire my dancers, submit audition tapes, sign with CAA or William Morris, book leading or co-starring roles, then tour after my first lead film premieres. I’d win an Oscar and a Grammy the same year. Then I’d take a year off—to date, fall in love, enjoy life, and quietly make a new album. I’d repeat this cycle—always taking a year to live while still creating.

I’ll never overshare. No podcasts. No invasive interviews. Just great music and great films.

And as for my looks—I won’t discuss them. When people bring it up, I’ll change the subject. I don’t want judgment or assumptions of vanity.

Thank You for listening to me ramble. Thank You for the favor You gave me today. I got a refund on my car insurance, gathered everything for small claims, rescheduled my court date, avoided smoking, ate good food, and spoke to both my parents. Today was productive. Today was successful.

I’m sad about losing Erica. It feels like a death—not because she’s gone from the world, but because she’s gone from my life forever.

Joshua reached out. I think I want to stay in touch with him. I met him in church.

I pray for my mindset, my choices, and my words. Please help me correct what needs correcting. Help me understand Your Word and strengthen my discernment. If I made the wrong decision about Erica or Scott, please show me. But if this is Your will, let this be the last time I speak of them and let me move forward.

Please bring new friends into my life—pure friendships, without ulterior motives or lust. Just genuine, platonic love.

amen.