Chamber of Reflection

     Is it selfish to say that I am satisfied with dating and being in a relationship with someone that is completely and almost utterly the same person as I? Or shall I say I closely reflect onto him. My twin flame that burns so passionately but never scorches me when I possess him in my arms or when he’s near. What a sight and natural phenomenon it is to watch and analyze the way that handsome human being moves and breathes. If I encountered him on any other day would he burn just as bright? Maybe brighter, maybe duller. Did I make it right on time to scream for the love I hopelessly desired and did I catch the eye of the handsome prince that Gaia romantically created for me? Oh how humble I am for the graceful presence of such a miracle. To hear such a homely, masculine, almost consuming voice that warms my cold bones instantly. If it wasn’t for the soft tissue that flawlessly came together to connect every ounce of love he had for me, through a intimate moment of a shared kiss with his lips, I would fly away. No longer would I be grounded if I wasn’t presented with that moment of ecstasy, when he gently applied onto me the pressure from that tender soulful kiss.

     Only there do I enter and soar through his physical vessel on a ship of love that takes me down a stream, past full yet shallow crystal rivers where I cross the deserts and hop from planet to planet to embrace that light he so immaculately emits. How can this being be so effortlessly perfect? On such a venture through him, I only find myself more and more each day. His woman of the sand. The woman that roams his deserts. He blesses me with every visit, on every Sunday. You know the day that most people claim is worship day. The day to worship your god or teacher. Though I have no place to worship, he is my place of worship. He is my god. He is my teacher. And I never come home empty handed. I always come home brimful and full. Overjoyed with the happiness and love that only he can resurrect. Through these fingers I create a word of bond on paper, in writing, that I will forever indulge and comprehend the genuineness  of the heart he presents to me. For I will take ownership of all sorrows and pains his heart comes across and refill it bountifully and abundantly with nothing, but the gold that resides in my bones, the light that transmits my glittery love and the magic that runs through my veins. 



Sunday afternoons.

Today I found myself staring deeply into a pair of chocolate-colored, brown eyes. Those very brown eyes that made me melt every time they trailed my way. Keep in mind I didn’t peer absently. I was consumed—completely getting lost in that hauntingly gaze as the articulation of his words rolled off his tongue and gauged into sentences. Those eyes saved me every time mine cried out to his. They spoke of love and radiated a warmth that hugged me and consoled me from a distance. I was safe. I didn’t need anyone else’s attention and was satisfied completely, with his and his alone. He held a perception of myself that made me love who I am without even trying. All he ever had to do was look at me and almost instantaneously my haven was created.


My Shooting Star🌟

Waiting for him was like waiting for a glimpse of a shooting star. It happened every so often, his presence.  You wait and sometimes nothing happens. Though you’ll never know when you’ll look up and see a star dancing across the night sky, but when you do it sends an electric wave of magic through your entire being. Suddenly you are reminded of exactly how remarkable yet minuscule you are. That you, a human, can experience a sighting of an object that’s forever burning until its end of time. And just for a brief second too.

Without delay, you register how happy and significant you feel when it resonates with you knowing, that star was in the sky for a reason. For you.

Seeing him was always a sight as well, but when he left my existence became dull. Everything goes back to black and the night sky is just as clear and empty as the void again. Lonely. Starless. I guess that’s the consequence of being able to capture such exclusive phenomenon of something so graceful. It ends. All good things come to an end. Sometimes too soon. Although, that doesn’t change the fact that you got to be involved in that present moment.

You’ll forever remember;

Everything is a balance.

You receive and bestow.


Kief bowls and Overthinking at 3 AM

I can’t sleep.

I guess it’s due to my constant overthinking.

Of what you ask?

Simple. I’m not sure.

I feel like I’ve been catching myself in that state of mind where I’m caught in the middle and I’m overwhelmed by the thought of so many options, that I completely freeze. Unable to move and clearly think of what my next action will define and be.

Is that what happens when you accomplish a goal? You’re satisfied for the moment being, the feeling of excitement and happiness wears off after the “honeymoon” weeks of getting/accomplishing something new and then you’re lost again.

The goal was already obtained. So now is there nothing else left to do, but maintain it?

I guess of course keeping something, anything as a matter of fact, is a journey and mission of its own. But does that mean I have to start accumulating other goals as soon as possible in order to keep on feeling fulfilled or satisfied?

Maybe it’s just me, but it takes a lot out of me, energy wise, when I finish or complete something I’ve been working on. Whether it be for a small amount of time or not, I always feel drained. Due to my Libran nature, I am already struggling with the many possibilities and options I could choose from when I am creating or working towards something. With always being able to see the perspectives of all sides and constantly hassling with my indecisiveness, I try to get things done in a timely manner. If there isn’t a deadline. Not to mention my Ascendant sign is in Aries, which is Libra’s ideal opposite. So my thoughts and feelings are constantly conflicting.

Could you imagine what that’s like?

To be a walking contradiction. Inside and out.

Maybe, just maybe I’m looking too much into it. I mean the definition to over think is:


Remarkably, ironic.

I always tend to do this. I live in my head 75% of the time and when I am dwelling and dallying around in my mind, majority of the time it’s completely white noise. Or maybe this better describes it; its like if auto-cruise had a sound, it would be that. I’m literally just coasting around, eyes wide, taking in the scenery and being completely astonished by how far-fetched and real my ideas, thoughts and feelings are. It’s like being a tourist in a new city you’ve never been to before, utterly engulfed by the lights and sounds all around you. Overwhelmed and not sure of what to attend to, enjoy or experience first.

That’s me. Inside of me.

Awesome, right?

To have your self, the mainland, to be territory that’s uncharted. To be a foreigner in your home country. It’s scary sometimes. At the moment though, I’m trying to look on the bright side and just try to imagine this as a really cheap opportunity to travel. Even though I haven’t physically traveled anywhere, I feel like I’ve already sailed quite a distance.


Day 2

Hello Everyone! 

I apologize for the long wait and it totally defeats the purpose of the challenge, but I’ve had a lot going on and I haven’t had a bunch of time to work on my blog. Anywho, NO MORE EXCUSES! 😛 Without further ado, I present to you my writing prompt, Day 2

*For my character my lovely boyfriend gave me the idea to shuffle my faerie’s oracle deck and choose a Faerie to be the character I develop my prompt on. When I shuffled I was presented Losgunna, the Frog Queen. She symbolizes Adventure, New experiences, and Self discovery. So keep that in mind as a little bit of a character background story.





     Losgunna, the Frog Queen was so distraught. She couldn’t believe it. She paced back and forth passing the tattered shroom patch and withered lilies, picking at her brain wondering where she could have possibly left it. She roamed far and high, below swampy waters, peddling through thick, slimy algae, jumping from pebble to pebble, to find this admirable treasure she’s been hearing so much fuzz about. Only through the vineyard of the faerie kingdom, will you hear of such tales and fabrications.

     It was so oddly engulfing, this treasure. It was something all the other faeries weren’t sure how to express. Fools gold, per say. Every other fay or mystical creature believed only the unluckiest would go through such a journey to possess something as mere as an Aziz stone. The stone that’s so unknown and fabled. It was always a gamble to try to go search and obtain treasures as alien as such. A stone whom’s existence can be nothing but a figment of fay’s imagination. Right?

     Wrong! Losgunna was always one to delve into the murkiest of waters, knowing she’ll resurface the gray, muddy lagoon with a lustrous, rose-pink pearl. She was always finding the end of the rainbows in the shadows of the deep, troll and goblin forests. But somehow, she always managed to become friends with each and every one of them. She just had a knack for these types of things, finding the good in the faerie realms and such. Even when the storms drowned the meadows for days she would find something spectacular to say or do about it. So of course when she ventured out to find and proclaim the Aziz stone as hers, she had already made up her mind. Her heart was set on adding such a praiseworthy wander to her precious, astrological collection.

Though, this was nothing new to the kingdom. Every time she carried an unfamiliar item through the faerie kingdom, fays whispered amongst themselves, mumbled underneath their breaths, cheered on and gawked at Losgunna for accomplishing and proving such tales and the impossible. Especially for a fay. And especially for a frog queen.

     As dexterous as Losgunna was when it came to the adventures she was so passionate about, she was very inattentive at times. Negligent even. So she constantly had the habit of misplacing her valuables when she was spaced out, day dreaming about her next discovery or sojourn. Even though she seemed to repeatedly find her riches in the most mundane spots, she can only imagine where she misplaced her new treasure this time. 


Day 1

Good evening Darlings! ♥

Tonight I will be starting a new challenge. It’ll be the first time I’ve ever done one of these 30 day writing challenges, but I thought it would be a good idea to think outside the box and really exercise my writing skills. I’m really excited and I can’t wait to share with you all!



The last sentence of the novel I chose is credited to: The Pilgrimage, by Paulo Coelho  ~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~


And when I think about it, I guess it is true that people always arrive at the right moment at the place where someone awaits them. I wasn’t quite sure if it was just an odd coincidence or fate, but I always managed to be there when you needed me the most. Of course vise versa, but I admit that I had more of a keen sense of intuition when it came to knowing when I needed to be around you or when something just wasn’t right. It’s like I always knew when you were close to danger. I guess that’s just the perks and consequences of being wholly connected to another. You feel the fuzzy, warmness of their smiling hearts when they’re happy and then you feel the ice cold, winter burn of their sadness and self defeat when they’re sad.

It wasn’t until recently reuniting with you after that break that it had dawned on me, I was your rock. Your partner in crime. Your better half. The person who finished your sentences when your words slipped away from your lips every time you talked about your dreams and fears. Your cheer leader when you needed that extra team spirit and motivation. Your best friend when no one wanted to take the time to understand you and your lover when you needed deep emotional healing. Most importantly, I was your stability and balance when everything wasn’t going according to plan.

Though you always had a funny way of showing me, I knew I meant the most to you. You would bring me so close that I could almost touch the moon, but then you would recluse and drift away. I knew I was forever mesmerized by the luminous light you emitted. You let your light dance and move me so I can feel the rhythm of your own beat. The beat that sounded so full when you loved at your deepest and so erratic when you felt like everything was falling apart. You were a mystery,  a conspiracy if you will, of your own. Something I could believe in, but knew its existence alone couldn’t prove anything to anyone unless they experienced you for themselves. Keeping my patience at bay, I will wait and wait until the nighttime falls again. Just to see you. Only then will I understand the treasures of awaiting someone at the right place at the right time. Only then will you let me get so close that I can touch the moon.

Who knows, maybe this time I will.


It’s finally time for Fall!

“The farther you go from where you start, the harder it is to get back…”

And then it happened.

I didn’t think the human heart was capable of such self atrocity, but my heart literally tore it’s self open and profusely bled out as it was constantly being kicked and beaten by his declamation of his love for me. This wasn’t the first time my heart has joined in on self punishment. There’s been multiple occasions where he’s spoken of such sweet nothings and it shattered my heart into itty-bitty pieces. It’s gotten to the point to where my heart volunteers herself to follow and be lured by his voice and articulation, without a worry in the world or passing thoughts. Knowing the consequences and patterns, she is careless; forever enticed by the light and frying like mosquitoes and moths caught in a bug zapper lamp.

What a mess, right?

Only to find out that those words were merely nothing but false hope and a distant dream.

I don’t know why my heart fell for his handsome smile and quirky personality every time he came around. No matter how upset or sad he’s made me, my heart falls for him quick.

I hated him for it.

For breaking my heart and making me suffer with this terminal illness. This sugar coated and enthralling ruse. We all know it.

We just refer to it as something a little less intimidating,


You taste like late night obsessions and whiskey dreams

A simple call for my name from him and I’m instantly objectified. I come running like hachi, forever succumbing to the dedication of being his loyal pet. 

I know I serve him well and I am there when he needs the ambiance of another connected human being. Even though I feel his energy is so much higher and lighter than mine, I still feel like I deserve his possession. 

How ego driven is that?

That I want to be consumed in all my entirety by his spirit? How I want him to eat me piece by piece eternally feeding his famishment of sexual desire, love, happiness, temptation, and all the other necessities that please and fulfill a human’s wants and needs?

I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. 

How can he not see that I was and always will be ready for him? 

I was ready for all of the tiny specs of imperfections hidden deep beneath his earthly, physical vessel. It only made sense that despite these flaws, it was the infinite voyages, the tales, the heart melting smiles, the daunting charm, the pop-punkish appearance, the enticing sex appeal and boyish nature, that coalesced wholly into what comprised handsome, quirky guys like him.

Only he wasn’t like every other specifically descripted guy; he was incomparable. 

And he had to be mine, again. 

My cat is sitting on my windowsil

I hate to sit here and think I’m sad.

I am stationed at the windowsil with my cat and all he seems to worry about or be fixated on is the rain drops dripping from the gutters of my house and the wet grass that’s lightly glistening as the sun sets and is forced to be kept away til morning.

I hate to think that such weather is aimed to corral such sadness on purpose. 

I try to grasp my thoughts and release them along with the marijuana smoke I inhaled a couple of seconds ago, but even then it holds onto the inner caves of my mind for dear life. As if the existence of these thoughts created something as spectacular as humanity and without it, it would change time all together. 

Nothing ever remaining the same. 

How tragic? 

For these thoughts to succumb and for my “happy thoughts” to suffice. 

3:51 A.M. and I’m laying on the couch in my parents living room staring at the ceiling. . .

Jumping from randomized thoughts, to fantasies, to possible futures and alternate worlds. 

Could I have possibly stepped foot into the abyss of the lost and forever doomed?

The hell of rhetorical questions, “what if’s”, and lost boys and girls. Where we travel to because we are completely and utterly misfit to be in a normal world to decide what the fuck we want.

The forgotten and fucked,

The Island of the Misfit Toys.