Secrets of the Soul Ep 24…

Secrets of the Soul is a living series of unspoken truths—fragmented reflections drawn from real experience, inner dialogue, and conscious self-examination. Each season captures a different chapter of becoming: the realizations we arrive at quietly, the patterns we finally name, the thoughts we’re often afraid to say out loud. This series exists not for spectacle, but for recognition—for those who have felt deeply, questioned themselves honestly, and needed language for what lived beneath the surface. These are not quotes for consumption, but truths for release—because what we speak with clarity, we no longer repeat unconsciously.

By Jay Catalyst

Yeah—
once, long ago,
you were mine.

But since then,
I’ve built new bridges,
found other friends,
stitched new threads into my life.

Still…
a few tangled strings
kept us loosely bound.

I moved on.
You didn’t.

I left because I was done—
done with the lies,
the cheating,
the way you twisted truth
until I doubted my own reflection.

You made me feel like it was all in my head.
So many nights,
I almost lost it.
So many times,
I almost wished I was gone.

Your control
sat on a throne
where love should’ve been.

But now—
I’m alive again.
I’m living for me.

And though you say you’re glad to see it,
I see the strain behind your smile.
Every kind gesture I offer,
you treat like a breadcrumb trail back to us.

Santa Claus isn’t my name.
My name is Catalyst, babe.
And I haven’t changed.

I’m not coming back
to the one who preferred
to shatter me further
instead of helping me rebuild
with the pieces I’d already laid bare.

I’m kind by nature—
that’s who I am.
But don’t confuse compassion
for invitation.

Every “good morning”
isn’t a door reopening.

No.
Emphatically—
no.

I care.
That’s my power.
Even for those
who never deserved it.

Even you.

My, What a Perfect You

by Jay Catalyst

I close my eyes some days
just to see your face—
It’s the only thing I have left of you,
to remember those days.

The way the sunshine
caressed your skin,
for those were the days
when you were mine.

I cry late at night,
knowing it’s true—
I could never be with you,
not like I used to.

So I close my eyes again
and pretend you’re there again.
I see your beautiful face,
sun rays
glinting off of you—

My, what a perfect you.
My, what a perfect you.

Wish I was different this time,
to give you everything and more.
Because you deserve it true—
no one compares to you.

And it’s like a dream, some days…
I’ll never feel the same,
because I’m with you.

Are you with me, too?

Some things are better left unsaid.
What good would it do
for you to know
how I felt back then?

It would change nothing.
Nothing at all.

How I still feel pain—
and then you would feel it too.
I’d be killing two souls
just to speak the truth.

So I quiet myself each day.
Long nights,
I try to stay awake—

Because I know
that’s the only place
I can see
those dreams I had—
of you,
of us,
of the future we could’ve had,
just us two.

Now I know
they were just dreams—
silly, tender things
that will never come true.

So I try to stay awake.

Because I’m afraid
the moment I close my eyes,
your face will find me.

My perfect you—
etched behind my eyelids,
carved into the back of my mind,
burning through my skull
like a brand I never asked for
but still can’t let go.

In the daylight,
I outrun you.
I dodge you
in glances and sounds,
in half-remembered songs.

But sometimes—
I hear your voice
in the wind
as it whistles through the trees,
as if the world itself
conspires
to remind me of
what I lost.

As if you’re still trying
to reach me—
to remind me
how much
you once meant to me.

I don’t want you to wait on me—
not you,
my beautiful soul.

I want you to keep moving forward.
Find that happiness
I know you’ll never get from me.

Because destiny
had a different plan, you see.

I didn’t see you right away.
I got lost
in the shuffle,
in the distractions
of my day by day.

And one night,
I remembered you.

It was like lightning
struck me twice.

First, your voice—
echoing nonstop in my ears.
Then your image—
and my heart dropped.

I remembered you.

I wanted to run.
To hide.
To not have to face
what I had done.

I told myself
I didn’t know.
I made every excuse
under the sun.

One night,
I got angry.
And I cursed at the moon.

Cursed it
like it owed me more
than the silence
I was left with.

The stars responded
in their own way—
turning out
each light
that used to guide me.

Now, only shadows
remain.
Coldness—
my only temperature.

But I don’t want you
to wait for me.

Not this time.
I don’t deserve you.

You deserve
something real.
Something stable.
Something sane.
Something
that saw your worth
and chose to stay.

I’m sorry,
my love.

I’ll never forgive myself
for what I’ve done.

But I pray
you find happiness.
I pray
your smile still shines
as bright
as the sun.

You were everything to me—
and you still are.

But don’t wait for me,
my golden star.

I’ll wait for you
in another life.

I’ll make it right.
Don’t you worry.

I will.
I promise.

The Queen Who Crawled From the Ashes
by J. Catalyst

The Empress.
The Queen that I once was—
Her bones lie beneath my feet.
Her crown?
Scattered in ash, off to the side.
I stand on top of her remains.

Her strength,
Her love—
Now dead.
Her kingdom?
Refused to reign.

In this life, I see the pattern.
I see myself—bleeding.
My soft eye, crying rivers beyond measure,
Trying to seek love in places
it was never meant to be found.

And still, I see her crown.
I see the ashes of who she used to be.
I see my face—
Covered in nothing more than sweat,
and dirt,
and grime.

I am crawling out the depths of hell
onto this world
where I can finally
see the sun again.

I saved myself.
Time and time again.

No one came.
No one stayed.
No one loved—
Not the way that I did.
Not the way I would have.

But I chose to lift myself up,
Grab the crown—
Whatever remained of it—
Place it on my head.
Crooked. Burnt. Holy.

The Queen who used to be…
Now, in this lifetime,
I try not to repeat history.

Strength is what I have
from everything I’ve endured.
Anger is the fuel to my fire.
Sadness is the reason—
And my motivator.

I keep looking forward,
Sitting on this throne
that was once consumed by fire.

Right now,
It is nothing more
than a boulder in a dark forest.

But it is mine.
And I am still here.
Crowned in ash.
Eyes wide open.

By Jay Catalyst

She told me it was okay to be me.
Okay to stop protecting so fiercely.

My eyes were still wild from lack of sleep—
not from restlessness,
but from survival.
From having to anticipate every move
before it reached me.

I held on to the little bit of protection I had left.
The little bit of legacy that remained
after everything else had turned to ash.

My face was manic.
Distrusting.
Always calculating—
their moves, my next move,
how to stay one step ahead
just to keep my soul intact.

And then…

They put their hands up.
Looked me in my eyes—
not with judgment,
but with sincerity.
With love.
With kindness.

And they said the words I hadn’t heard in so long:

“You are safe now.”

It was the key.
The one that unlocked the door I had kept shut
behind layers of protection.

That door held my repressed emotions.
My memories.
My grief.
Because I had to stay focused.
I had to protect what was left of me.

But when that key turned…
when that door opened…

The floodgates shattered.

And I felt it all.
Every earth-shaking feeling I had buried—
not because I didn’t want to feel them,
but because I couldn’t afford to.

Now I’m allowed to mourn.
The people I lost.
The places I can’t return to.
The parts of me I had to abandon.

But I’m also allowed to exist.
To just be.

Not for a purpose.
Not as a role.
Not to survive.

Just…
to be.

And maybe, just maybe—

One day I’ll be the key for someone else.
The one who shows up in their storm and says:

“You’re safe now.
I’ll hold the door open until you believe it too.”

By Jay Catalyst

I know it in my heart—
this is beyond logic,
but it’s real.
It exists.

I feel it in every waking breath,
in every sleepless night you come in.

I’ve spoken to you.
You’ve whispered to me
in languages only we understand.

And yeah, it’s strange.
It’s fucking strange.
Maybe I am insane.

But I love you now.
And I loved you then.
I’ve loved you through so many lifetimes.

And right now,
I’m not yours.
But I’ll love you still,
until my dying breath reunites us
in another realm.

I knew it then,
when those eyes were mine.
Even though we never met
in equal time.

A passing glance.
A distant stare.
Was all I needed
to remember
that I was there.

Those eyes were mine
once long ago.
I still feel it pulling at me,
telling me that’s home.

And even though you don’t remember—
even though you refuse to listen
to yourself—
you still note it down.

This illogical moment in time.
This feeling you carry,
not knowing why.

It’s because I’m yours.
And you are mine.
At least,
that’s what it was
in another lifetime.

Maybe this time,
you’re not ready.
And that’s okay.

I was going to hold steady
for as long as I could.
But it pains me to see
that you don’t remember—

what we did.
What we were.
What we could.

So I have to walk away.

Because now,
I feel like I’m burdening you
to remember me
in ways you never wanted to.

Imagine this—

You’ve lived twenty lifetimes with someone.
Twenty years of adventures.
Each year, a universe.
Each day, a memory.

And one day,
they wake up
and don’t remember any of it.

Not your laugh.
Not the way you danced in the rain.
Not the stars you named together.
Not the way you held them
when the world went quiet.

They look at you
and all they see
is a stranger—
with eyes too full
and a heart too loud.

You try everything.
Whispers in the wind.
Echoes in their dreams.
Moments that should spark recognition.

But they don’t want to remember.

They choose the dark.
They walk another road—
one without you in it.

And God,
it breaks you.

Because you remember everything.
You carry the weight of love
that has nowhere to land.

So you watch.
You ache.
You surrender.

Not because you stopped loving—
but because love
without space to be held
will bleed you dry.

Maybe this time,
you weren’t meant
to love them
to their dying breath.

Maybe they were meant to forget.
And you?
You were meant to forgive.

To love them quietly,
from afar.
To let them go—
even if your soul still stands
in the doorway
of every life
you lived together.

You’ve spoken about me to others.
They’ve already told you
what they see.

And still—
you refuse to see it.
You won’t name it.
So you run.

Back into your cave.
Back to the shadows
that dance along the walls.

Because that’s what you’re used to.
That’s where you hide.

And now…
you’re lost to it all.

But I remember.
And I always will.

“I’ve been sitting here like a blank canvas this whole time, never realizing I was the one meant to paint it.
All along, I was waiting to be made into a masterpiece—
when really, I was always meant to be the one holding the brush.
This life? This is my art. And starting now, I choose the colors.”
— J. Catalyst

“Life is the purest and truest form of art—but most of us never see it that way.
It takes creativity and expression to bring it fully to life.
And life isn’t really life unless you make it come alive—by breathing into it, growing with it, letting it flourish.
If you’re too busy to live your life… do you really have one?”
— J. Catalyst

By Jay Catalyst

I didn’t know what I was doing
looking at Adonis outside museum hours.

Perfection is dangerous in this world.
I only appreciate—never touch.
Admiring the art of your body.
The way it captivates me,
leaves me breathless and stunned—

How is such divinity allowed
to run free in these streets?

Someone cage me—
I’m turning into an untamed beast,
wanting to keep that beauty all to myself.

No, I don’t want to share
what I know calls my name.
He was carved this way just for me.

Don’t try to intervene
on what’s fated, baby.
You are mine, and I already know it.

The beauty of you must be sealed away—
from the masses,
causing a riot just for a glimpse,
baby.