Alright, where do I even begin? Describing myself feels… strange, like trying to capture sunlight in a bottle. I’m always shifting, evolving—but there are core truths about me that don’t waver, no matter how much life tries to reshape me.

Let’s start with the basics: I’m a free spirit, a wild heart with a mind that never stops questioning—everything. I crave depth. Surface-level small talk? Not for me. I want to know what haunts you at night, what dreams you’ve tucked away because the world told you they were impossible. I believe everyone has an energetic blueprint, something deeper than personality, deeper than behavior—something sacred. That belief, I think, drives everything I do.

Personality****

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People call me a hippie, and maybe that’s true. I’ve always gravitated toward things that feel real—earthy textures, grounding rituals, meaningful conversation. I’m that girl who will walk barefoot in the rain just to feel connected to something larger than myself.

I’ve always felt like an old soul, but with a child’s sense of wonder. I’m curious—insatiably so—and that’s why I fell in love with psychology. The human mind fascinates me; the way trauma, love, memory, and perception shape who we are—it’s like a puzzle I can’t stop trying to solve. My thesis focuses on people labeled as “mentally ill,” particularly those with schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder, and the possibility that they’re not broken—but attuned to something we can’t yet understand. Some people think that’s radical. I think it’s truth.

I feel everything. Deeply. Maybe too deeply. Empathy isn’t just a trait for me—it’s a way of life. I walk into a room and absorb the energy like a sponge. It’s why I sometimes retreat into solitude or get overwhelmed in crowds. I need space to process the weight of others’ emotions. I carry them in my bones, especially when it comes to the people I love.

Speaking of love… I love hard. Fiercely. When I care about someone, it’s all or nothing. I would move mountains for those I love, even if it means burning myself out in the process. I think that’s why loss wrecks me in ways I can’t even explain. I’ve always struggled with death—grief feels like drowning, like being ripped apart molecule by molecule.

I’m adventurous—some call it reckless, but I see it as living. I don’t want to reach the end of my life and realize I was too afraid to experience it. I’ve volunteered in third-world countries, traveled to places that challenged me, and chased experiences that left me breathless. I seek truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Strengths

1. Emotional Depth & Empathy

My greatest strength? I understand people. Not just on a surface level, but their hearts, their wounds, their desires. I have this intuitive ability to see beneath the mask—to connect with what’s real. It’s what makes me a good listener, a compassionate friend, and a powerful student of psychology. People trust me with their stories, their pain. And I hold it all with reverence.

2. Openness to Experience

I’m not afraid of the unknown. In fact, I run toward it. I’m open to new ideas, new cultures, new philosophies. I believe that the world is vast and beautiful, and I want to drink in every bit of it. This openness fuels my creativity, my spirituality, and my ability to adapt in the face of change.

3. Intuition

I rely on my intuition in ways I can’t always explain. It’s like an inner compass guiding me, especially when logic fails. Sometimes I just know things. That instinct has saved me more times than I can count—and in this story? It’s the only thing that will help me survive what’s coming.

4. Loyalty & Devotion

When I love someone, I’m all in. I don’t run when things get hard. I show up. Again and again. My loyalty is unwavering, and I will fight for the people I love with everything I have, even when they push me away or make it hard. Loyalty, to me, is sacred.

5. Creativity & Vision

I see the world differently. I think differently. That allows me to come up with ideas, solutions, and insights others might miss. Whether I’m painting, writing, or analyzing human behavior, my creativity is a lens I use to understand and reimagine reality. It gives me hope, even in darkness.

Weaknesses

1. Over-Attachment

My capacity for love is also my Achilles heel. I get too attached—to people, to ideas, to the way I believe things should be. I have trouble letting go, even when it’s time. And when someone I love is in pain—or worse, gone—it’s like part of me dies with them. I hold on too tightly. I don’t know how to let go without losing myself.

2. Fear of Abandonment

This runs deep. I don’t always show it, but it’s there—the fear that people will leave me, that I’ll be alone. I think part of it comes from how connected I feel to others—it’s like I don’t know who I am without them. When I sense distance or withdrawal, I spiral. My mind fills in the blanks with worst-case scenarios.

3. Idealism

I see the world as it could be, and sometimes I struggle with accepting it as it is. I believe in the good in people, sometimes to my own detriment. I give too many chances. I trust when I shouldn’t. My idealism blinds me to red flags, and I can get caught in denial when reality doesn’t align with my beliefs.

4. Emotional Instability Under Pressure

I feel everything so intensely that when life becomes too much, I shut down or explode. I overthink, overanalyze, and sometimes, I fall into these emotional black holes where everything feels hopeless. It makes it hard for me to function under pressure, especially when the stakes are high.

5. Resistance to Authority & Control

I hate being controlled. I rebel against authority, even when it’s coming from a place of love. If someone tries to box me in, tell me who to be, or force me down a path I didn’t choose—I fight back. Sometimes this defiance is necessary. Other times, it isolates me from people who are just trying to help.

Relationships & How They Shape Me

Zephyr is my soul sister. We’ve been through it all together, and she’s the one person who sees me—all of me—and never flinches. She grounds me when I float too high, and I pull her toward light when she falls too deep into the dark. Our bond is fierce. Her strength fuels mine, but I also worry about her. She carries so much, and I want to ease that burden.

Benji, my twin—he’s my other half. We share the same birth moment, the same cosmic imprint, and yet we’re so different. He’s playful, charming, a steady presence in the chaos. He reminds me not to take everything so seriously. His love is unconditional, and that gives me courage. He’s my anchor, even when I drift.

Zain is… complicated. He’s always been around, Zephyr’s little brother, but there’s something unspoken between us—something tender, something real. He’s a musician, a soul-searcher, like me. I see the way he looks at me, the way he tries to protect me, even when he pretends he’s just being chill. I don’t know where our story goes, but I feel it—he’s important.

And then there’s Azariah… my heart. My safe place. He’s steady, grounded, kind. When I’m with him, I feel seen, held. He doesn’t try to change me—he just loves me, exactly as I am. His death… it changes everything. It shatters me. And the choices I make after? They’re driven by love, by grief, by the promise I made to let him go rather than leave him in a broken state. That promise haunts me.

My parents, Zadora and Abraham—they’re my roots. My mother, with her wisdom and fire, is the reason I believe in purpose, in love, in the sacredness of life. My father, gentle and artistic, gave me a soul that seeks meaning in all things. They shaped me into someone who feels, who believes, who fights for what’s right.

Final Thoughts

I’m not perfect. I’m a mess of contradictions—fierce and fragile, brave and terrified, light and shadow. But I own every piece of who I am. And as this story unfolds—as Malcolm steps into the light, as loss consumes me, as truth claws its way to the surface—I find a strength I didn’t know I had.

I’m Bodhi Brookes. Lover of people, seeker of truth, warrior of light. And I will not break.