Living in a Dream
It's been a weird 3 months since I left my boyfriend. I left him shortly before Venus went into retrograde. I sat in my backyard with the recording of the natal chart reading I had commissioned from Sloan Bella...one of the last that she completed before her son died. It was a full moon in Scorpio that day.
As she painted a picture of the heavens the September 3, 1981 that I was born, I reached up to draw a machete with my finger in the sky. When it was whole, I pulled it down to me and held it to my heart and listened in quiet fascination.
These are men disguised as friends, adversaries masquerading as lovers, carefully constructed power struggles designed to hold you down - subjugate and mute you, consume you and confuse you, ultimately abuse you. You had wronged them in incarnations past, or so they perceived, and you were to pay for it in this one. When you finally realize your own worth, when you see what's going on - you will be free to end the cycle.
I stood up and swung my machete, with a touch of tai chi and a bit of ballet, and so swiftly cut it all off and out and away.
In the following days, I noticed beautiful KBong from Stick Figure looking at my IG stories all day every day. What the fuck? I asked myself, remembering my boyfriend would put KBong on Youtube when I got so thoroughly annoyed by all the metal pedal review videos he would watch nonstop that I would begin to lose my absolute shit. KBong happened to be in the "Similar to Stick Figure" playlist or something, so that's what he would put on to appease me. He (KBong) would so happily sing about smiling and vibing as I stood there in a rage looking at my boyfriend do nothing while I tried to get ready to go to work.
So fast forward seven karmic years or however long we were together and now I'm alone and KBong is looking at me. I look back at him curiously each morning, and then enter into a full-blown, month-long, Amélie-esque (except she ends up with the dude) schizoaffective episode in my head wherein KBong is in love with me. I don't really know how to actualize this, except to order a shirt from him and hope he'll drive it to me personally at which point I'd invite him in and we'de make wild, sweet, love tangled up in my Target Circo unicorn bedsheets.
But that didn't happen. I just got a tiny little package in the mail one evening as I was arriving home from a particularly shitty day in the office. Squeakers managed to escape and sashay down the driveway as I tore the package open with my teeth on the porch to see if it contained some sort of missive of love. It did not. And moreover it was basically toddler-proportioned, which isn't really cool. I mean I've lost and am losing weight, but come on. I didn't want KBong to know I needed an x-tra large, didn't figure that would be super attractive to him. I sighed loudly and walked down to retrieve Squeakers and shut ourselves back inside our tiny duplex forever.
Alone again, naturally.
As she painted a picture of the heavens the September 3, 1981 that I was born, I reached up to draw a machete with my finger in the sky. When it was whole, I pulled it down to me and held it to my heart and listened in quiet fascination.
These are men disguised as friends, adversaries masquerading as lovers, carefully constructed power struggles designed to hold you down - subjugate and mute you, consume you and confuse you, ultimately abuse you. You had wronged them in incarnations past, or so they perceived, and you were to pay for it in this one. When you finally realize your own worth, when you see what's going on - you will be free to end the cycle.
I stood up and swung my machete, with a touch of tai chi and a bit of ballet, and so swiftly cut it all off and out and away.
In the following days, I noticed beautiful KBong from Stick Figure looking at my IG stories all day every day. What the fuck? I asked myself, remembering my boyfriend would put KBong on Youtube when I got so thoroughly annoyed by all the metal pedal review videos he would watch nonstop that I would begin to lose my absolute shit. KBong happened to be in the "Similar to Stick Figure" playlist or something, so that's what he would put on to appease me. He (KBong) would so happily sing about smiling and vibing as I stood there in a rage looking at my boyfriend do nothing while I tried to get ready to go to work.
So fast forward seven karmic years or however long we were together and now I'm alone and KBong is looking at me. I look back at him curiously each morning, and then enter into a full-blown, month-long, Amélie-esque (except she ends up with the dude) schizoaffective episode in my head wherein KBong is in love with me. I don't really know how to actualize this, except to order a shirt from him and hope he'll drive it to me personally at which point I'd invite him in and we'de make wild, sweet, love tangled up in my Target Circo unicorn bedsheets.
But that didn't happen. I just got a tiny little package in the mail one evening as I was arriving home from a particularly shitty day in the office. Squeakers managed to escape and sashay down the driveway as I tore the package open with my teeth on the porch to see if it contained some sort of missive of love. It did not. And moreover it was basically toddler-proportioned, which isn't really cool. I mean I've lost and am losing weight, but come on. I didn't want KBong to know I needed an x-tra large, didn't figure that would be super attractive to him. I sighed loudly and walked down to retrieve Squeakers and shut ourselves back inside our tiny duplex forever.
Alone again, naturally.