The King is dead
They say that long before the world breathed and light touched the seas, there was a realm beneath the skin of the ocean, a place where time held no power, and truth moved in waves. There lived the mermaids, beings of salt, soul, and starlit shadow. Not the mermaids humans paint, but guardians of memory, love, and the raw force of the feminine.
Their song was prayer, their gaze an oracle, their bodies living maps of deep-sea mysteries. But as in all ancient stories, a king came, not through war, but through forgetting. He was beautiful, quiet, and seemed to carry understanding. The mermaids, full of compassion, let him in. But what they didn’t see: he came from the realm of emptiness, born of those who mistake love for power. And so, he whispered lies to them for years:
“Love must be earned.”
“You must obey to be lovable.”
“Sacrifice yourself, and you will be seen.”
Slowly, they lost their voices.
Slowly, their bodies grew heavy.
Slowly, they forgot they were queens.
Until one rose, the youngest, yet oldest of all.
She emerged from the depths, her scales glowing with night’s light, her eyes holding the storm of the star tide. Within her burned a truth older than the king himself.
She didn’t speak. She sang. An ancient song only those who have remembered themselves can hear.
And with each note, a veil fell.
A lie crumbled.
An illusion shattered.
The king froze, for he saw: he had never been a king. Only a shadow they mistook for light.
And they said:
“The King is dead. Off with his head.”
Not from hate. But from healing.
Not as punishment. But as closure.
And so he fell, not in blood, but into silence.
The mermaids exhaled.
Their voices returned.
Their bodies began to glow.
They didn’t sit on thrones.
Because they knew:
They are the crown.
And love is not a kingdom to rule, it is an ocean that lives through them.
_____ THE FALL OF THE OLD SYSTEM _____
We’re raised in a world that teaches us to work for everything, money, success, approval, survival. The corporate world says grind, hustle, prove your worth by the size of your paycheck. That’s bullshit.
Our parents say work for love, affection, validation, like it’s a prize after enough sacrifice. That’s bullshit too.
Our systems create people who aren’t authentic. People who hide their truth out of fear, of losing jobs, stability, or relationships. We become emotionally immature slaves, afraid to speak up, break free, or love ourselves enough to demand something real.
We’ve raised a generation of emotional infants, scared of the truth about love, taught to trade worth for crumbs of affection. No one dares to speak up. No one breaks the cycle. Because they risk losing everything. That’s the real crisis, we don’t know what love is.
Love isn’t a reward after ass-kissing or tied to your paycheck. If you’re jumping through hoops for scraps of love, run. Don’t look back. You deserve love just by existing. No conditions. No expectations. Stop begging for affection.
We’re done with that. We’re done earning the basic decency of being loved. You’re already worthy. Already enough. You just forgot, because you’ve been listening to the wrong people.
