Taking advantage of people’s hearts of gold, and the ones who truly care and want it and need it most actually don’t get it, but get pushed out into the cold to survive by themselves, having a sense of bitterness in oneself in the long run or hope – only to be dashed by scammers alike.
What has our world come to? Liars, deceptive manipulators.
Where are the genuine people? They have to be out there somehow.
Never trust the internet (most of the time).
Maybe everyone has a degree of high functioning anxiety in them, I noticed that I do this everytime when I have a fairly high degree of stress which then translates into anxiety. Coupled with music it becomes high functioning anxiety.
I never understood social anxiety either but now I feel it, it must’ve been something my brain tried to understand how I tried to cope all those years all thanks to the all seeing eye/portal of shrooms.
DMT later, and I am actually a little terrified, but I should not even think about it right now. I am currently finishing up this allowable cheat sheet and I can feel my hands becoming colder. I think I really love unnecessary adrenaline and that makes me high functioning.
Or “high” functioning (wink wink 😉
Energetically cutting cords with someone who made you lose a part of yourself, who reinvented your psyche, who made you a mini version of them – that form of intrusion is almost albeit unacceptable but thank the Gods for astrology and understanding some forms of psychic imprint in a person —
Dear God I ask for strength to finally breakthrough and have it all come full circle. It can happen now.
I feel really hot and fiery inside, imploding, fiery pits of dragon hell within the subconscious – so violent, controllable but strong – what is this? Serpent? Kundalini?
What is cutting cords? Burning bridges what is it that I have to do?
via Daily Prompt: Continue
So here it is, continuing on something that has been long lost, that inner momentum that keeps things going, not denying the past but continuing and building from that point on.
So tell me how you feel – Bonobo, Sweetness. -slight interruption from the good music running in the background-
This one word post has been really fun for a few minutes in typing this, but trying to think from a point of continuum without ever stopping almost seems possible and insane. A long structure of running sentences, which my English teacher would scream “WRONG! YOU DO NOT FORM SENTENCES LIKE THAT!”
Just kidding, she’d just shoot a deadly glare at you and you know it’s time to redo your work.
Alright, back to continue my self-loving Saturday night with soothing music and ambience.
Obnoxious blog posting at uni. Why are the screens so obnoxiously huge and some of the keys sticky and a bunch of people drinking coffee and flipping through big, thick textbooks? Sticky keys really annoy the crap out of me.
Often afraid of settling, people become nomads. Nomads towards people whom they’re connected with, nomads towards the places they frequent, nomads even towards their ownselves.
Escapism is always a musing, a lure to the enigmatic unknown. Music as a form of escape, everything is used to escape another form of something which we are not ready to face in the present.
The harvest of being in the present is being true to your very own essence, and for me Saturn kicks in when that happens – detachment. I think the music that is playing behind the background also helps in modifying subconscious actions.
I know I am writing this post because I am escaping workload.
Fear of success, not stepping into one’s own soul mission for fear of too much power and too much change – now, that is real.
-when will we even settle?-
Staring at jiggly legs, competitive and still want to be the best at everything heh. Waiting for the timer to go off so I can peel off this rejuvenating mask and then get my face done and go run some errands.
So out of shape, so out of shape.
Combative state much? Survival mode, we’re all constantly in survival mode if what we’re doing does not align with our soul mission.
Finish it anyway, because 9. Endings, completion.