I recently watched the new Frankenstein adaptation, and the image of the creature haunted me long after the credits rolled.
Seeing that figure on screen - the stitched body, the haunted eyes, the monster made by man - stirred something deep inside me.
It reminded me that the real monster isn’t who we think.
It’s not the creation, but the creator.
And perhaps, it’s us.
Jacob Elordi looks hot even as Frankenstein’s creature.
I love costumes - the artistry and beautiful design behind them.
But behind every costume, behind every carefully crafted image, there is something raw.
Something true.
Humans are the real living monsters - thoughtforms born from our own imagination.
Monsters are not created in laboratories or stitched together from corpses.
They are born from human fears, illusions, and projections - from the shadows we refuse to face within ourselves.
The real monsters are those who believe they are innocent, who cannot bear to see the darkness in their own reflection. Their projections often wound the ones who carry light, the ones who mirror back what they cannot accept or understand.
Throughout my life, I have seen this again and again. I have been the target of projections, of cruelty, of persecution. The monsters were never strangers - they were always close.
They wore familiar faces. They were the ones I trusted, the ones I believed in, the ones who were supposed to teach love, empathy, and strength.
But instead, they taught me something else - the anatomy of fear.
They showed me how insecurity becomes aggression, how envy becomes slander, and how weakness hides behind moral superiority.
Human fear, when unacknowledged, manifests as violence.
And those who live unconsciously project their inner void onto others, turning the innocent into enemies, and the light into a threat.
When you act as a mirror, you become dangerous.
You remind others of what they are not - or of what they once wanted to be but lost.
A mirror exposes truth, and truth burns like sunlight to those who dwell in shadow.
That’s why mirrors are often broken. That’s why people attack what reflects them.
Nobility, kindness, honor - these are not traits found in abundance.
They are rare frequencies, difficult to hold.
Those who lack them often choose the easier path - the one that vibrates low.
They choose gossip over growth, cruelty over compassion, persecution over presence.
Because to evolve demands courage, and courage demands honesty.
But weakness cannot bear honesty.
So it disguises itself as virtue, morality, or victimhood.
And in that disguise, it destroys everything that threatens to reveal its emptiness.
The true monster is not the creature - it’s the creator who refuses responsibility.
It’s the human who points at the beast but never looks within.
Frankenstein’s tragedy wasn’t that he made a monster - it’s that he abandoned him.
We do this every day - to others, and to ourselves.
We abandon our inner shadows, our fears, our rejected parts, and they grow wild, unseen, until they take form.
They become thoughtforms - living, breathing energies that move through the world, feeding on projection, creating pain, perpetuating illusion.
But awareness is the antidote.
When you face your own darkness with compassion, the monster dissolves.
You stop projecting, and you start integrating.
And then, for the first time, you see the truth:
The creature was never the villain.
It was a mirror - waiting for love.
And then, from the ruins of projection, something else begins to stir.
Because when we stop battling monsters outside… the real work begins inside.
What once was fear can become fuel. What once was shame can become fire.
What once was rejection can become ritual.
This is the moment of transformation - the alchemy of the soul.
You realise the monster you feared was never a separate being - it was a fragment of you, cast aside, denied, feared.
And in that recognition something miraculous happens:
You invite the shadow to the table.
You let it speak.
You let it move.
You let it breathe.
In the quiet that follows, you remember: creation is not just building new things - it is also reclaiming the lost parts, the broken pieces, the shards of self you left behind because they hurt too much to hold.
Your true rebirth is not a fresh start - it is a return.
A return to wholeness.
A homecoming.
You realise that every mask you wore, every costume you envied, every monster you fought, was an invitation to discover your own truth:
That you are both the creator and the creature.
That you are both the light and the shadow.
That the story of you is not one of hiding what you are, but of embracing what you have become.
In this space you make new choices:
You choose presence over performance.
You choose honesty over image.
You choose kindness even when the mirror shatters.
Because the mirror is not your enemy - it is your teacher.
And the lesson is: love the reflection, even the fractured one.
Hence the world shifts. Because each time you integrate a shadow, you dissolve a thoughtform.
Each time you forgive a projection, you reclaim a fragment of power.
And the light you carry becomes not a spotlight on yourself - but a lantern for others who wander in their own night.
This is your alchemy.
Your creation.
Your renaissance.
Let the costumes fall away, the illusions fade, and stand naked in your truth.
Not to be seen by the world - but for the world to see.
Because in your raw, whole presence, you become the proof:
That monsters can be redeemed.
That creatures can be loved.
And that humanity - in all its magnificence and mess - can awaken.
For in the end, it’s not about who made the monster.
It’s about who chose to heal it.
And in healing it… we heal ourselves.
We become the art.
We become the story.
We become the era of light.
Love,
LA
