It only clicked today—the trickery of his actions.
The story of Diabel and 3 missing condoms.
It all came together for me today, a vision of what happened in Debrad at the Art Camp. In the eyes of Diabel, he did nothing wrong as he used his trickery again. The three missing condoms were the tip of the iceberg—it was the sign I prayed for. I was doubting myself as I wanted so badly to believe that Diabel loved me. He would say it to me and I thought he meant it, not in a romantic way but in a human way, a friendship way. Until the last day of the camp, the day we were leaving—he did not say it. It was like he knew.
That was the time I counted the condoms that were out sitting at the night table for anyone to see. I was not going through his things as he accused me of. They were, as far as I was concerned, our condoms—he bought them for us. I had every right to touch them.
A few days before I went to the wooden structure, a church on a hill, where the locals have seen sightings of the Blue Mother—Mary, Mother of Jesus. I went and I prayed, and with each bead I released frozen emotions, the self-doubt and disbelief that what I feel on the energy level, see with my third eye, and hear with my spiritual hearing is true. I have been dismissive of all the signs since Tyhani as I wanted so badly to be loved by a man that makes love to me, or so he says he does. Now I know that this is also a lie, because how can one make love and at the same time lie? The two cancel each other out.
I see that his soul craves love and wants to give love, but it is trapped and enslaved by his ego. The ego infected with the whispers of the Devil. I am not religious and the metaphors I use are merely to illustrate that there are dark, evil, “low vibrations” at play and Diabel is not to be blamed—he is helpless and enslaved. His soul cried out to me that “he wants to receive the love but he cannot.”
Part of the reason why I am writing these lessons learned is to help Diabel to break free by being his mirror and showing him how much he has hurt me—the person he said he loved. Silly me, I believed him and I went all in. I loved him like nobody before, with my heart and soul. This love deepened every time we made love, and I made love to him more in those two months than with my previous partner over the past decade.
Diabel was also the needed medicine to truly put behind my previous partner and to truly fall out of love, even though the last time we made love was Xmas 2023. Looking back, it is quite interesting as a pattern: I quit weed, tobacco, and sex all on Christmas. Weed (THC) → Xmas 2018, cigarettes → Xmas 2019, CBD weed → Xmas 2020, sex → Xmas 2023. This Xmas 2025 I want to quit doubting myself.
I have known since I was a child that I am here to do God’s work, and I invite God to take the lead, especially with the Art Movement. I feel like I did all that I can do and I need for God to do the rest with my hands, as I am out of ideas and left shaken to the core by the way I was treated by Diabel. I am strong, but I cannot help but cry. I had to cancel my exhibitions as I feel no energy flow—I feel like Diabel broke me and there is no one left to pick up the pieces. I leave it in your hands, God.
Returning to the story of Debrad … short recap: I went to see the Blue Mother to pray for a sign, and with each bead of the rosary I cried, and when I got to the end she spoke to me and asked if I wanted to catch him in the act or just receive a physical sign. I said it would be too painful to catch him in the act, and that I just wanted a sign that what I was feeling was true, as he was denying it and accusing me of being jealous, even threatening me that if I kept it up he would go and cheat on me. He said that since we met, he has been with no one—even though he could.
I was with no one. Even when my previous partner came for a visit and is still helping me renovate my house, I was not able to sleep with him as I loved Diabel so much. Even now, I am not able to sleep with anyone but my soulmate. Silly me, I even recorded a video about it about a year ago that for some reason is now getting likes out of the blue—about the fact that the only person I want to be with is my Twin Flame, who I know is Banksy. Another disaster, because how can I find a man who is anonymous? One look in his eyes and I recognized him, but he is nowhere to be found. Frankly, I stopped looking as I am broken and need time to heal. Not even able to do art in this state.
Back again to the story of the 3 missing condoms: so it clicked today—he had sex with Diabella 3 times. The first time technically did not count as I had not arrived yet at the Debrad Art Camp. It was the first night.
The second time was also a technicality, as I said to him that today I am taking a day for myself and not to be angry—it would be my painting day. He even made a joke: “Today is like you are not here, so I can be free to take on another lover?” And that day he did.
The first synchronicity actually happened when our friend wanted to pick up Diabella, and Diabel was so genuine and curious that he even got me involved, suggesting that Diabella might need to be saved. Silly me, I saved her—I invited her to sit with us.
The day after my painting day, our friend was freaking out and asking other friends, who then relayed the message to Diabel and me, that the rumor was Diabel had layed Diabella. Can you imagine how I felt? I already knew this had happened, but I didn’t want to trust my feeling. I had seen the chemistry between them. That night, after a long day of painting—20 canvases in 12 hours—I went to sleep around 1 a.m.
Other friends, bystanders, even warned me to protect myself, as they could see how Diabel behaved with other girls when I wasn’t around. He was checking everybody out. I had asked him not to do that when he was with me. That night, Diabel came in around 3:30 or 4 a.m. He had been with Diabella until then—I felt her energy. When he came into bed, he asked if he could cuddle me. He never usually did that, and as he did, I felt his heart turn to stone. It was like someone stabbed me from the back straight through my heart chakra.
The following day, I went to see the Blue Mother for guidance. That was the first time I noticed something was seriously off in the energy field. It felt like he had cut the cords and moved on to the next victim.
Also, let’s not forget the first night I was supposed to arrive. He messaged me to ask what time I’d get there and said he was waiting for me, as they were planning a trip the next day. As soon as I replied that I’d come the next day, he stopped answering his phone and ignored me until the evening of that day. This was a pattern throughout—he would call me every day, and then there would be days when he’d just turn his phone off. Those were the days he was with others.
I would get visions of these women. For instance, Celia—I saw them together before they both messaged me. With Diabella, when he told me he was coming three days late to Transylvania, I saw them together and was prepared for it, even though no one had told me.
He did want to talk to me about “us,” but I didn’t want to—I didn’t see the point. He didn’t stand by my side. He chose to be with Diabella 1.0 and then Diabella 2.0. I am not angry with him, but I lost respect for my friends who stabbed me in the back by sleeping with my Art Camp boyfriend.
There’s no space for girls like you in my life. Women doing this to other women in a community environment is repulsive and disgusting behavior. Karma is a bitch, and it will happen to you—it already did at the Transylvania Art camp. Both of you got cheated on, hearts broken.
This is what he did when he slept with Celia, our therapist—he stopped answering the phone for 24 hours, and the synchronicity was that she messaged me right after he left her. He did the same and started to say how he prefers it with me than with other girls. It was quite obvious to me, the synchronicity. At the therapy session, he was asking me if I thought she was hot and started to tell me that she had invited him for a private session at her house, and he got the feeling that she wanted him, but he could never, as she was his closest friend’s girl. But that is another story that does not need to be told, as this happened in between Art Camp timelines—but he did also lie about it.
The third time with Diabella was the day before we left. I couldn’t find him, and his phone was turned off. He pretended to be talking with our friend in his room. That same day, he grabbed the condoms and brought them to our room. I got my period, and that’s why I was looking for him in the middle of the day—to get the keys to our room.
That was the day of the Vernissage. Diabella left that evening in a hurry, jealous that he spent the night with the next victim. I was packing my canvases. We were going to use the condoms that day, but we didn’t. He just left them out—and that was the mistake he made, leaving them in plain sight.
We never actually used them, but on the day we were leaving, my soul whispered to me to count them. There were only 7 left out of 10. He said he bought them just for us.
He was already gone when I informed him of my discovery, and after 24 hours he replied with a picture of all 10 condoms that he was able to refill once in Budapest. He told me to see my therapist, said I am a lunatic for accusing him, as he has only been faithful to me. What he did not expect is my therapist is clairvoyant, and I asked him to check out Diabel—and he confirmed all my suspicions of all the partners one by one we checked them all… I asked about his wife, his girlfriend, his therapist, the girls from the hotel, the teenager, and both Diabellas. All came out positive. I am not sick, as we checked that too, and Diabel is very careful and clean. He uses condoms with promiscuous women, but not with me, his wife, or his girlfriend. Still, I will get tested for STIs.
The cherry on top was the Transylvania Art Camp. They did it after I left—my roommate, in my bed. He was done with Diabella; he had only come with her to get back at me for cutting him off from sex. Since it was the best sex he had ever had, he even told me it was mind-blowing—right in my car, in front of Diabella and our friend. They were quite rude, all speaking Hungarian while I drove them around, talking shit behind my back. I could feel the evil energy.
I told him I would not sleep with him unless he fell in love, opened his heart chakra, and stood by me with his full presence. I promised him I would stand tall like the Eiffel Tower for him. Sadly, he turned out weaker than I had imagined—he chose to be a sex slave, serving the Devil. My therapist said he is an agent of the system, a guardian whose job is to keep women in low vibrations, feeding on the energy they send his way by thinking about him.
The moral of the story is to trust myself and walk away before I get hurt.
On this note, I will end my stories about Diabel. It’s over—I will not waste any more of my energy thinking about him. I tried to help him, but some people just choose to work for idiots, as Banksy put it in his post today.
