#not to mention the night walks and morning prayers and the wonderful times i've had with the other dorm girls!

[thebirdandhersong]

songbird's season of general sadness/first real grief/sorrow is coming to an end: (in chronological/journeying order) songs and poetry that helped my heart a lot these past few months :)

Always Good, Andrew Peterson / Marjorie, Andrew Osenga / Ask Polly article I read on a whim: 'My Boyfriend Refuses to Change' / You're On Your Own, Kid, Taylor Swift / One Foot in Front of the Other, Griff / Heavy, Mary Oliver / Monday by @madamescarlette / The Letter, Linda Gregg / Summer's Retrospective by @madamescarlette / Ode to Some Lyric Poets, Gregory Orr

(bonus--from the scraps of writing that came out of this chapter of life, which are slowly being assembled into a more coherent story:)

[annieintheaair]

Hope

When I walked into my office this morning I was reminded of the quote I put on my felt letter board last year. It has been up ever since because it has been the inspiration to carry me through this last year and also, I can't remember where I put the bags of letters.

"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears."

Fear for me, right now, is staying here, praying, and hoping things get better, even if they don't. Hope, for me, is taking that leap of faith and moving on, looking forward to blue skies ahead.

I went to finish my apartment application last night and found that someone else had already applied for the unit I wanted. After scouring the website, I found another unit with a similar floorplan, and realized that maybe that one would actually be best for me-- top floor with no one above me, and a balcony with the perfect view of the 4th of July fireworks. Now, I'm just waiting to find out if I'll get it or not.

Yesterday, we had an unsuccessful broker's open house. My dog, Kirby, decided to wake me up early and vomit on my pillows so of course, I jumped out of bed and had to wash everything. I tried to take my pillows to the dry cleaner around the corner but they told me they don't do pillows. I am now even more convinced that the dry cleaner is a front for another "business".

Once I had most things under control, I loaded the dogs into the car and drove to my sister's house where I hung out for the afternoon. I took the dogs with me and walked them to pick up the older two girls from school.

By the time 5:30pm hit, I was exhausted and ready to go home. I had a calm night at home, drinking wine, eating dinner, and finishing my application for the apartment. If it's meant to be, I'll get it. If it's not meant to be, I'm trusting that God has other plans for me.

As much as I've been enjoying all of this time off, I decided last night that my work hours for the month were too low and I would need to pick up more trips. I picked up three more and I think I'm going to stop there. I really don't want to add any more hours to my schedule.

I've been wanting to go to this wine festival that's coming up for literally years. I never got to go when I lived nearby but mentioned it to Julie when we had brunch the other day and immediately she said she would go with me. We found out that if we volunteer, we can go for free (tickets for wine are like $40 and it's another $40 for food). Upon further research, Julie found that we could actually volunteer to set things up next Thursday during the day and then it would allow us to have all day Saturday for the festival. Even though I didn't really want to make an extra trip there on Thursday, I decided that it's probably worth it for the free tickets.

Since I picked up extra trips, I'll be flying tonight, tomorrow, and Friday. With only one night off -- Saturday, then I'll be flying again for four more nights in a row. I hate doing four in a row but until we get a contract and a raise, I feel like I'm going to need to fly more.

Prayers for my whole life are so needed right now. I'm just going along, trusting God that He has a better plan for my life than what I had imagined. I'm putting my faith in Him that He will lead me out of this storm.

My theme right now is hope. It's no wonder I picked the name Hope as my Confirmation Name. Saint Hope was known for her strong trust in the Lord and hope for a better future. I guess younger me knew something after all.

xoxo

Annie

[a-tiny-speck-of-dust]

have you ever wondered what the sound of a broken heart is like?

Word count: 1,8K

Note: I've been keeping this fic locked in my basement for idk how long at this point. This supposed to be the backstory of one of my ocs for a personal writing project I'm currently working on. But, later on, I read it and was like "Hey, this isn't so bad! I think we can post it somewhere" so I decided to post it here on my dusty tumblr. Please be nice bcs this is the first fic I ever posted here, and do tell me just in case there are any tw that I missed and/or should be added to the tags. Also, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance in case there are any mistakes. I hope you will enjoy this story as much as I do and everyone has a great day/night ahead. Love, Lan ❤️

---

ps: Since I briefly mention the term Handlers and Entities from my personal writing project, I'd explain it shortly here:

Handler - a human with supernatural power under an organization specialized in dealing with malevolent Entities.

Entities - the umbrella term I used to call supernatural being.

---

The life of an immortal is a life of boredom. At least, that’s what I thought after witnessing countless sunsets and sunrises my whole life as a shrine guardian.

I have served the gods and helped humans with their seemingly endless problems. I gained a few tails for bringing honor to the gods by helping humans and lost some for playing tricks on them.

Good times.

But, people come and go. Time has changed and the gods are long forgotten, while I’m trapped in time and remain the same.

These days it feels easier to live as a fox. Food has never been a problem and having an entire shrine to myself isn't as bad as I once imagined. Things get quiet, though, when the youngsters decide that it is not a good time for a ghost-hunting night. They're all pretty amusing.

Old people visit the shrine occasionally, trying their best to preserve a tradition that is beyond saving. Some bring their grandchildren, but that’s most likely to be their first and last time visiting.

I did remember one kid. A little girl who seemed interested in everything around the shrine. There was a time when her grandmother took her to the shrine every weekend for a few years. Then one day they left and never came back. Shortly after, I heard that the grandmother passed away and the girl returned to the city with her parents.

We immortals were accustomed to losing something or someone permanently. So, I never thought I would ever see you walk into my shrine's gate again.

But, you did.

You looked different. How long has it been since your last visit? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t dare to scare you away. Not when the gods gave me a chance to see you once again.

The curiosity in your eyes was still the same as before. But I can see more than just curiosity in there. I just don't know what it is.

Despair? Hope?

Your eyes lit up when our eyes met and you smiled at me. I had no idea that I was going to miss your smile so much.

“Good morning, Mr. Fox.” You said, reaching for something from your pocket. “Would you like some treats?”

Some cat food.

“Sorry, I only have that with me right now.”

What are you apologizing for? I thought, munching the food happily as if I hadn’t finished a whole pigeon for breakfast a few hours ago.

“I hope you don’t mind if I take a look inside.” You told me before you bowed toward the gate and walked through it.

There’s nothing left in this shrine besides the hall of worship and some stuff that hasn’t been stolen yet. You can’t even do the cleansing ritual because the water has dried out. But, you make sure to do whatever you can to be respectful. Your grandmother would be so proud of you.

The last time I saw someone pray in my shrine, they asked for so many things all at once. I wonder if the gods even remembered all of it. There were also those people who came just to ask for one thing but felt the need to repeat it many times for the prayer to be answered.

You, on the other hand, wish for nothing. You might look like you did on the outside, but you just stood there to pay your respect to the gods and nothing else.

When you turned around, I expected another goodbye and centuries of guilt for not even trying to talk to you. Instead, you waved at me and told me you’ll be back tomorrow with better food.

I don't usually expect much, but at that time I really hoped it wasn't just meaningless pleasantries.

But, you kept your promise and came back with food and some tools.

“I asked the neighborhood association if I could fix this place and they told me to do whatever I want. So I did.” You were crouching in front of me with a big grin. “I hope you didn’t mind that too.”

This place needs a little renovation anyway. I thought as I finished the food you brought for me.

From that day, you started to come almost every day. Sometimes you brought a friend, but most of the time you came by yourself.

For the first time in a very long time, I was waiting for the sun to rise so I could see you and listen to your stories. 

Only to lose you again as a result of my carelessness.

The painful memory is engraved in my head. The day I left to find you a parting gift and returned late.

If you ever wondered what a broken heart sounds like, mine rang in my ears. Like two small bells held together by a thread. Clattered to the ground as it slipped from my mouth when I saw you laying on the ground, under the sacred tree where I used to wait for you to come.

There were cuts and bruises all over your body. Your clothes were torn in several places and stained with blood. 

I have lived as a fox for so long I thought I had forgotten how to return to my human form. But, I remembered sprinting across the narrow path to you with fear creeping up my spine like a static shock when I pulled you into my arms.

I didn’t know how I turned back my hind legs to a pair of human legs and how my claws turned back to a pair of hands. All I know is your cold and limp body with your heartbeat so faint I could barely feel it. 

“Mr. Fox?” You whispered hopefully.

I nodded. “I was late, please forgive me.”

Your pale lips curved into a teasing grin, looking as beautiful as ever even when your soul slowly left your body. “I always knew you weren’t just an ordinary fox.”

Anger tightened my chest as I caressed your cheek where I could see the color of life fade away from you in slow motion. Who dared to do such a heinous thing to you in my shrine? 

“I’ll save you, please stay with me.” My voice was hoarse and shaky. I haven’t heard my voice for ages, but I’m glad I can finally use it to talk to you.

“No need, Mr. Fox.” Your brown eyes glowed under the sunlight as you tried to preserve every detail of my face in your memory. “It wouldn’t work the way you wanted.”

It was painful to look into your eyes.  How come they were so full of life even on the verge of death?

“It’s a shame that I can only see the real you at times like this.” You slowly reached towards me, touching my face with the tips of your cold fingers as hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” I sobbed, holding your hand close to my cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You replied with another faint smile. “My departure won’t be permanent. You should have known that better than me.”

“But, how long should I wait?” My voice cracked as I cried, the thought of living my old life without you makes my heart ache. “What if … what if you don’t—”

I cursed myself for not being born a human. I cursed the gods who brought us together just to take you away from me and forced me to live a very long life just to lose everything I ever had.

“I’ll be back,” you assured me. “And you’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

Your pretty smile faded away from your face as the last drop of your soul left me alone in my shrine with your lifeless body.

“I will,” I replied, kissing your knuckles. Wondering if you were still around to hear me.

I embraced you for the last time and buried you under the same tree. I spent days mourning for you, pouring out all my grief until there was only anger left.

Once the rage took over me, I searched the whole village to avenge your death. But, killing the culprit didn’t ease the pain like I thought it would.

So, I made the entire shrine your grave and put curses on anyone who dared to enter. I lashed my anger at the trespasser just to feel something that I hoped could fill the space you left in my heart.

I created quite a riot since you left me. 

Until a young boy came to the shrine one day. He was an 18-year-old boy from the city. Even though he looked like a mere human, I knew better that he wasn’t.

A Handler always smells different from humans.

“You have caused a lot of trouble to the neighbors, don’t you know?” He asked politely, far more mature than any other grown-ups I ever encountered.

“They deserved it,” I told him. “And you would too if you don’t leave this place immediately.”

The boy ignored my threats and turned to look at your grave. A shiver ran down my spine as he took a step closer to you.

“Don’t you dare come near her!” I warned him. A Handler would be hard to kill, but I won’t let him mess with you too.

The boy stopped before he reached your grave and kneeled in front of it. He lowered his head and mumbled a prayer that I hadn't heard in a long time.

A prayer that wishes you a safe journey.

“I’ve met a lot of Entities like you, Mr. Fox.” He said afterward, still on his knees. “But, you can’t just wait here and hurt people until her return. Don’t you want to tell her your stories too?”

His words linger in my ears for a moment. I wonder how the thought of your return can instantly soothe my anger.

“The world is cruel, I admitted it.” The boy added as he stood up. “I know for sure I would probably be long gone myself once my parents returned from their departure, but you? You will be around once she comes back, won’t you?”

A gentle breeze caresses my cheek. For a moment, I think I can feel your presence around me. 

“Come with me to the city.” The boy said. “So that you won't run out of stories to tell when she finally returns.” 

And that’s the story of how a young boy saved me from my grief. I still have a lot of stories to tell you.  How I met my friends and my newfound family. The city indeed has a lot of stories.

I can’t wait to sit by your side again once you return. Until then, I will pray for you to have a safe journey too.

-AN END TO A NEW BEGINNING

---

[you-kinda-smell-like-christmas]

Rehab (pt.2)

¡Hola bellos! This is my entry for @pretendcnco 300(?) followers challenge! Congrats babes on hitting that milestone! I hope you guys enjoy this!❤

**********************************************

Pairing: criminal!Chris x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst?, mentions of jail, mentions of marijuana, feels, drugs

Word Count: 8.1k

“Forget all we said that night, no, it doesn't even matter, 'cause we both got split in two, If you could spare an hour or so we'll go for lunch down by the river, we can really talk it through.”

**********************************************

Christopher's POV

The pouring rain outside foreshadowed the mood for me all day. I've been stuck in jail for 15 days. 2 weeks and 1 day. It's been 15 days since I was dropped off here, and 15 days since the break up. I've been feeling nothing but pain, sorrow, hurt, and regret. Regret for my past, my actions, my self. But most importantly, I felt regret for letting her go so easy. Then again, there's not much you can do to contact someone when they arent on your visitors list, or just dont want to see you at all. All I know is that I need to apologize and explain myself to her. I cant let her go that easy.

Walking out of my cell, I approached the makeshift cafeteria and was given my breakfast. Breakfast today consisted of pancakes, blueberries, and a carton of milk. Just like Y/N used to make. Only much more edible. Nevertheless, I ate the slop. The meal had reminded me to much of her that I didnt realize I started to cry until a tear landed on the plastic tray. God I miss her.

Sulkingly, I finished the breakfast and stood up from the metal table, throwing my trash away, and returning the plastic tray to the men who were working the cafeteria. Heading towards my cell, I had some major thinking to do.

Arriving at C153, I entered, and was locked back in the tiny cubicle. As I looked around the room, my eyes landed on a picture. Inmates were able to keep some form of personal life with them during their stay here. Mine just so happened to be a picture. A picture that held a thousand words. In the picture, Y/N and I were on our couch laughing at god knows what and just having a good time. Though, my ass was high as fuck that night, I still remember the lecture she gave me. The lecture that ultimately landed me here. The lecture that tore us apart.

"Christopher stop! That's too much."

Christopher had arrived home high as hell, and you weren't letting him off easy this time. You and him say om the couch. Your legs intertwined with his, holding hands, with your head on his chest. What started off sweet would soon turn into something you may regret.

"Chris, babe, you're high again. You need to drink some water." You tried to help him recover.

"I'm fine Y/N." His words slipped up, and he definitely was not fine.

"Chris stop! No you arent. You need to get some rest, and drink some water too." You tried negotiating with him.

"I'm fine Y/N. I promise." Christopher slurridly said.

Sighing, you take a step back. He wasn't going to listen to you. He never does when hes high. You always told yourself you knew what you were getting into, when you started dating a drug dealer. You thought he had changed. You helped him stop his drug addiction. You were there for him. And you always would be. However all good things come to an end. Once an addict, always an addict. Right? Halfway into your relationship, he went back to his old ways. Recieving yet another addiction to marijuana. You couldn't handle this anymore. You needed to stop this once and for all.

You tore the blunt he held in his hand away from him. "What the hell Y/N?" Chris had shouted at you.

"Chris, this needs to stop. Once and for all."

"Why? I feel fine. I'm telling you that I'm perfectly okay right now." Chris fired back.

"No you're not. Just stop." You nagged him on.

"Just shut the fuck up Y/N. I said I'm fine and I mean it. Sometimes you just annoy me. I wish I didnt date you sometimes." He muttered the last part to himself, but you still heard it.

With tears brimming your eyes, you shakingly look up, hoping what he didnt mean what he said. "You dont mean that, do you?"

"Of course I do. You nag me all the time about stupid shit, when you know damn well that I'm perfectly fine of handling it myself."

Ouch. That stung. But then you remembered that he was high and most likely wouldn't remember most of the things he said tomorrow.

So with all the courage you had, you mustered up two words. "Fuck you." You sneered at him, walking to your room and locking yourself in it to hopefully try to get some sleep.

The next morning you woke up, and went to check up on Chris. When you got downstairs, he made breakfast for you. Pancakes, blueberries and coffee just the way you liked it: four sugars with five creams.

He seemed stable today. You needed to talk about last night though. "How was your night?" Chris interrupted your thoughts.

"Good. Pero, we need to talk about last night."

Chris remembers what happened last night, and hes scared to talk about it. Of course he didnt mean to hurt you and say what he said, it just slipped out and was a heat of the moment type thing.

"Mira princesa, lo siento. Nothing I said last night was true. I love you and I love having you as my girlfriend. You've helped me through so much, and I can't thank you enough. I dont know what I would do without you. Tú eres mi vida, mi mundo."

The speech was heartfelt. But you wouldn't let it get to you this time. You needed to make sure Chris was understanding this as much as you were. "Chris, I love you, tú eres mi luz, but this needs to stop. You can't continue to do drugs. It needs to stop. Once and for all."

Chris was silent for a while. Realizing he may lose his love to marijuana. "Princesa, I promise to stop doing drugs. Pinky promise."

Trusting him, you intertwined pinkies, though you didnt trust him fully.

Coming back to reality, I realized I was crying. Sobbing even. I didnt realize how much of an effect Y/N could have on me. I said some stuff I regretted that night, and I broke a promise I made. A promise that led me here. In jail. For what cost? Nothing, because I lost something so great to me. All of a sudden, I remembered one final way I could contact her. I would have to write a note. Grabbing some paper and a pen from my cellmate, I began to write the letter. It would all be coming from my heart.

Querido Y/N,

Dios, where do I start? First off, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for breaking a promise I know was so important to you. I'm sorry for being such a terrible boyfriend. I'm sorry for not being there for you, when you were always there for me. I'm sorry for the countless times I've left you sitting at home alone, wondering where I was, when I was out doing drug business. I'm sorry for all the fights I've caused. I'm sorry for what I've said during those fights. Pero, I want you to know that I love you. Te amo mucho. Being in jail, without you gave me some time to think. Think about all that we've gone through, and how lucky I am to even have you in my life. I promise you, after this, no more drugs will be involved. I'll go to rehab, a halfway house, and do anything to get me back to where I need to be. With you. I'm sitting here, writing this note with full regret for my words and actions. Pero, actions speak louder than words, and my actions led us away from eachother. I just wanted to say gracias. Gracias por everything you've given me, and supported me with. I dont know where I'd be if I didnt meet you. You continue to make me want to get better and change for better. One day, we will be together again. I'll always be waiting for you. Whether you're on the other side of the world, or I have to wait a lifetime, my arms are always open for you. Te amo mucho. Forget all we said that night, no, it doesn't even matter, cause we both got split in two, If you could spare an hour or so we'll go for lunch down by the river, we can really talk it through. I love you.

Tú amor,

Christopher

Tears rid the letter. It was a very heartfelt one. Tears littered my face as well. I cant afford to lose her. Sealing it in an envelope with her name and information on it, I quickly say a prayer to God hoping he'll answer me.

Walking out of my cell with the envelope on my hand, I put it in the box labeled "outgoing mail."

Now all we can do is wait.

Taglist:

@smoljoelito, @estoy-enamorado-de-ti, @cncobby, @ericksmamita ,@ellos-me-vuelven-loca

[almaasi]

you have witch powers? i've always been fascinated with "paranormal" stuff, including magic, so i was wondering if u could tell me stuff about it. is magic real? what kind of stuff did ur grandma do? are ghosts and spirits real too? what kinds of spells can witches cast? is it like supernatural? sorry if i'm asking a lot of questions i'm just so fascinated and curious. i didn't even know witches were like, legit until i read ur tags, i just thought that people back then said that so they had 1/2

2/2 a reason to burn a woman they didn’t like. ok now i’m rambling but in short, what can u tell me about witch stuff? i’m just asking cause i’m really curious :)

(about my tags on this)

#whenever phil gets out the tarot cards and pulls something scarily accurate i’m just like…. yes…. good…show us your witch powers…… #(my own experience with tarot? so reassuring. and calming. it’s like asking for a friend’s advice but that friend is your own brain.) #also my great grandmother was a witch by profession and i definitely got some of her magic #i have not yet learned to recognise a feeling when i feel it.. but when stuff happens later i’m like OH THAT WAS MY MYSTERIOUS FEELING #one of our sheep died a week or so ago.. and for two days straight i was outside in the middle of the night staring at the moon #and wondering why i felt death in the air #and the rain made me cry and it felt like release but i didn’t know why #and i immediately started worrying about our sheep but didn’t follow up to see if they were okay #then two days later my mother comes in and tells me one of our sheep died and two days ago had given my mother “the death look” #if you’ve never seen someone or something die… there’s this look they have that’s like a disgraced peacefulness and self-awareness #but basically i knew the sheep was gonna die without any reason for me to think that #and i need to learn to follow up on my instincts because they’re ever-present and i never know when it’s a psychic thing or random anxiety #disclaimer: IS IT ALL BULLSHIT who knows? but science doesn’t know a whole lot about a lot of things and this stuff is natural to me #so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

okay!! i was expecting someone to ask, so here goes. (in case anyone’s wondering, this is a personal post, and no, i’m not making this stuff up.) (feel free to reblog if you want. but it’s so goddamn long aaah)

first off, an opinion: whether or not you believe magic is real in this world is entirely related to whether or not it is real. at least in my books. magic/paramormal stuff can always be observed, but if you don’t believe it’s anything beyond coincidence or skilled trickery, it’s not gonna impact you.

i do believe in ghosts (or djinns, or something else human-like), but in my experience they don’t really do anything except exist in some other realm and occasionally become visible when i’m at my most lucid, at that point between waking and sleeping. most people (myself included) would say it’s just a hallucination. but like…. who’s to say it isn’t real, just in a way we as humans don’t yet understand? y’know?

the most interesting ghost sighting i’ve experienced was when i was fully awake, not hallucinating. i was in a car with my sister, my sister’s friend, and her mother - and we drove over a bridge, and i saw a fritzing semi-translucent black figure walking along the peak. i looked back and it was gone. it wasn’t scary, it was just really cool. i saw that with my own two eyes, i have zero doubt i saw it, and for that moment, it was there.

other times i’ve seen things pass through walls, or felt presences in the room that vanish when i look. i get deja vu maybe once a week. the ability comes and goes in phases, switched on and off whenever i tell someone about it. it’s like that part of my brain gets really shy and goes into hiding when it’s mentioned.

sometimes it can be pretty powerful. there’ve been moments when a deja vu begins, i remember it from a dream, fast-forward through the memory to remember what happens, and i get ahead of present time, so i predict what’s in front of me by about one to three seconds. usually it’s snippets of conversation, or my hands moving to complete an action, or words i’m typing. (let me tell you, it’s so freaking bizarre when you’re consciously typing, thinking about what you’re typing, and simultaneously remembering typing it before, and knowing what you’re about to type despite not yet knowing. and then seeing it happen. i think a lot of people reading this would be like “what?” but i know there’s someone out there who knows exactly what i mean)

for a long time in my teenage years i told people i’d see coloured figures, like auras without physical people, just hanging around out there in the world, but due to health issues a lot of my teenage memories are gone, and the only memory i have of that stuff is the recollection of me telling people about it, and remembering it while telling people. it’s really weird. i sometimes think maybe i made that up?? but i don’t understand why i’d do that when i do actually see other things sometimes.

once, my family visited this old historic building, and i remember seeing a woman in a maid’s outfit duck through a doorway. but she wasn’t actually there. so. idk.

my great-grandmother (or great-great grandmother?) on my mother’s side used to sell love spells to the people in her Indian village. my mother told me about it when i was little. my [great] great grandmother would write a spell on parchment, and the client had to go home and burn it in their fire. and she would curse people, in exchange for payment. that’s all i know about that. but my grandmother (also on my mother’s side) used to have some kind of power, i never got to ask about it while she was still alive. (she was an awesome woman. one of the first women in her country and generation to go to university.)

personally, having been raised as a muslim, i always felt really disconnected from the culture and practices of the religion, even though i believe in the supernatural aspects of it right down to my core. that’s despite my ultimate acknowledgement of facts being deeply rooted in hard science. recently (like, in the past few months) i’ve started to rediscover my faith - directly following on from a quiet interest in the pinterest & instagram aesthetics of paganism and new age magic, which as a concept i was never really sure about. i just really liked how it looked. basically, it clicked in my brain that islamic prayers could, in essence, just be spells. you gotta take everything with a grain of salt. they might not work. but that’s the beauty of it.

a few weeks ago i stumbled across a prayer on tumblr, and read its intended purpose: “Allah will grant whoever recites this seven times in the morning or evening whatever he desires from this world or the next”.

and… i started to think, maybe the purpose is not to actually do that. nothing ought to be a get-out-of-jail-free/do-this-and-your-life-is-made type thing. maybe the purpose is to make you believe nothing can go wrong. and that every bad thing that happens–? it happens so that you can learn from it. and eventually, after many things change, you realise what you desire was not the thing you thought you desired. (idk how to explain that. an example from my life: i really wanted to be a veterinarian growing up. then i got sick, dropped out of school. and now i’m a writer. i want to be a writer more than i ever wanted to be a vet. i had to get sick and my life had to fall apart before i could discover that. writing was never something i’d have considered before.)

my point is, if you believe everything that happens to you will ultimately be a good thing, bad things don’t hurt so much.

and if you take something as a sign, it’s a sign. it’s just your own brain taking hints from the world around you and using them to conjure up a decision. if you wanna believe it’s magic, it is.

personally i like protection prayers/spells and just…generally positive ones. i say prayers for sick friends, people who i see on my tumblr dash who are having a bad time, and if i see or hear about disasters or worldwide events. i’m not expecting it to have a visible impact, but like.. what’s the harm? at the very least it makes me feel like i did something if i don’t have money to give, or i can’t be there with a friend, or the world is falling apart and i’m helpless. praying or saying a spell is just hoping, really, really hard. if some greater being is out there, listening? cool. (but what if god doesn’t wanna do anything? maybe it’s like my cupcake theory. god puts the ingredients in a baking tray, shoves it in the oven, forgets about it. the universe rises as a cupcake. god made it. but the universe is doing its own damn thing.)

regarding tarot cards: again, it’s self-reflection. you can believe answers come from outside influences, but it’s easily just as much about interpreting generic advice and making it mean something to you. but personally i’ve drawn random cards, and known that no other card in the deck would’ve been as relevant at that moment. i’ve used tarot cards to determine the endings for my stories, and coincidentally pulled cards that directly represent my title characters.

one time i was thinking about my fic “The Moonlighter and the Magician” and the card i pulled first was The Magician. and i was like gee thanks tarot cards that’s helpful. (but actually? it meant those cards were on the same wavelength as me. think about it. 78 cards, there’s a one in 78 chance i pull that one on my first try.)

apart from my wonky first-ever tarot readings with the Rider-Waite travel-size tarot deck (which belonged to my mother), i’ve never pulled anything that didn’t eventually make sense. i use The Wild Unknown cards now, i relate to them so much more. plus they’re mine, not borrowed or abandoned for years, which probably helps. (buying those cards was the most money i ever spent on anything. i don’t regret it.)

is any of this like the show ‘supernatural’? not really. the closest i can say my experiences have come to the show would be the episode “faith”. just, the whole episode. it doesn’t matter if it’s the real deal, so long as it works. and boy, does it work for me. and a lot of other people.

like i said, all the spirit-like entities i’ve encountered have been perfectly benign. no monsters, except things i’m pretty sure are nightmares.

but on that note, i take a lot of things to help me sleep. if i didn’t, i’d be waking up screaming night and day (i hit whistle register while screaming, once). i see faces in the dark and creatures in my bedroom, even when my eyes are closed and i’m awake. i sleep with a light on, and i prefer to sleep in the day. i cannot even deal with the presences in my room.

for that matter, my room is definitely the most presence-heavy room in the house. now, although it’s obviously just in a drafty area, i feel the cold spots. all. the. time. i’m feeling one right now as i type this. the door and window are both closed. the heater is always on. the draft comes from the same corner of the ceiling my cat stares at when she’s “staring into space”. there’s definitely something there, but it legit doesn’t bother me. it watches me get dressed sometimes, but it’s not weird about it. like i said, benign.

i feel energy everywhere i go. i can’t stay in my family’s open plan living room comfortably for more than a few minutes, because that room is filled with people and pets coming and going all freaking day, and even when it’s empty, it’s so LOUD. there’s vibrations and voices coming out of the walls, because the house absorbs it all. as a generally tired person, that room exhausts me. i can only stay there if i have social energy. (yes, even an empty room.)

i am so, so sensitive to people’s moods and the energy they let out (to the point where i burst out screaming if i see a negative microexpression during a personal conversation). i find phone calls very difficult, not just because of social anxiety, but because i can’t sense energy as easily as i want to, and is natural for me. skype calls aren’t the same as being there in person. a lot of this could also be autism-related, but nearly everything about me is autism-related, because i’m autistic. go figure.

one time, the day i had my first period, i passed out in a maths exam. all the other times in my life, i’ve seen black or maybe red when i passed out, but this time it was a striking cobalt blue. and i heard SO MANY VOICES, i thought the whole classroom was full of people shouting. my P.E. teacher was observing that exam, she carried me out of the room and lay me on the floor outside. i told her about the voices, she looked at me in confusion and said “there were no voices?? the whole room was silent for the exam.” obviously that was a weird day, but given the amount of times i’ve lost conciousness in my life, before and after that day, i know the warm muggy feeling of slipping away, and i guarantee that one was just a little bit not-normal.

my cat Wilson follows me everywhere. if you’ve ever seen a picture of a witch and her familiar, that’s me and Wilson. she leaves the house if i leave, and she’ll walk down the road beside me to make sure i stay safe. she only lets me leave completely if i go in a car, but even then, she tries to come too. i know what she says when she talks. she speaks in words for me. it translates naturally in my head without a thinking process.

there was this one time when i was about 15 my parents took me to an after-hours medical centre because apparently i was ~speaking in tongues~ or whatever. i don’t remember it, i remember ‘waking up’ with a doctor’s flashlight in my eyes, crying, then holding my sister’s hand as we looked at the fish in the fishtank afterwards. i can’t say how legit that is because i just.. don’t remember it.

one time as a kid, i am absolutely sure i was possessed for about 30 seconds. i was walking down the street on a balmy English afternoon, pine needles scattered underfoot, with my elderly grandmother (paternal), my grandfather, and my sister. i must’ve been 6 or 7? and a streak of evil just bolted through me. and i stuck out my foot and my grandmother fell flat on her face. my grandfather tried to help her up, a car driving by pulled up and asked if they needed help, grandfather said no, and got her back to her feet. i can’t remember if i felt remorse. i think i just knew instinctively that it wasn’t me who did it. but like.. i wasn’t just A Nice Kid, okay, i was The Nicest Kid. i just don’t do things like that. ever. especially not to a kind and generous grandmother who i love so very dearly. i never had before, and i never have since. that’s the single most evil thing i’ve ever done in my life and it came out of nowhere. being more aware now, i think it was a djinn (aka a demon in christian beliefs, i think). they’re known for being mischievous. (my grandmother was fine, by the way. this is the first time i’ve told anyone about this.) now i think about it, i remember cobalt blue behind my eyes then, too.

whoops, this is a really long post now. but uh… basically, i’ve just always been open to feeling these things, and believing in what i sense for myself, without subscribing to whether or not the science has been done yet. in fact, i think i’m open to it because i experienced the same stuff when i was young. the energy i feel is very much real to me, completely tangible. i’ve never been able to see auras, but i feel them on some people. i think just being open to feeling something makes it more likely to come to you. i try not to ignore my instincts (because they’re always right. always.) but i find it’s super hard to distinguish between anxiety (which i feel often) and magical ability (which is far less commonly felt). also sometimes the instinct is so faint it doesn’t even become a passing thought, just a blur of something i half-considered. but in hindsight i realise what it ought to have been, had i paid proper attention.

i can comfortably manage to go outside in bare feet, shut my eyes and let the moonlight do its thing. it has an immensely powerful energy, i always feel cleaner inside when i go back in. (my cat Wilson sometimes asks me to go outside with her when there’s a full moon. almost every night, especially on warm nights, but even freezing ones, we can just stand out there for an hour together. watching the moon set is transcendent. far more so than a sunset.)

right now, due to years of bad health, i have to force some natural abilities away (like the nightmares) because they’re too much for me to handle. i think as i recover, over time it’ll be easier for me to accept that stuff back into my life.

oh, one more thing, regarding my health - i have celiac disease, which has kept me essentially bedridden for the last 7+ years - WHICH BY THE WAY, my family spent literally 9 years trying to diagnose. my doctor kept doing an anaemia test, telling me there was nothing wrong with me and sending me back to school. i saw various specialists, herbalists, a naturopath, physiotherapists, cardiologists, had an MRI scan, saw family counsellors, school counsellors, a hypnotist, etc etc - basically consulted every medical professional under the sun when a simple blood test would’ve done it. stupid misogynistic doctor who thinks all teenage girls fake it to get out of school.

but one thing we did do was visit a psychic, who told me i had something called a candida. my dad, a sceptic and nonbeliever, googled it and said it was “some kind of magical thing in the gut”, and was therefore bullshit, so we continued the search for a diagnosis. years later - years - after a change of doctor (who i chose because i got a good vibe from her picture) we find out it’s celiac disease, a disease of the gut. of the hundreds of people we saw, the only ones to even pinpoint the right body part were the psychics. i googled candida just now and guess what? literally celiac disease. this woman diagnosed me with celiac disease by kneeling at my feet, holding my hand, and shutting her eyes for 30 seconds.

for the record, slightly off topic, i know very few men in real life, and this is what the men in my life have been. my doctor, dismissing me as a liar because i was a teenage girl. and my father, dismissing my declining health as “not trying hard enough”, even now, more than a year after i was diagnosed by a doctor. i think this is why i take refuge with male fictional characters. they’re better. i want them to be soft and understanding like the men i’ve never known.

anyway, this is the part of my life’s story i never really pieced together until right now. it’s a lot, more than i expected. i happily call myself a witch. most of my magic goes into my stories, and i think a lot of people who read them feel it, even if they translate it as passion or love or good vibes or something. the amazing comments i get would speak to that. i love the energy i get from comments, because it does come through in typed words, even if it’s much fainter than seeing people face-to-face. some comments just hit me with waves of goodness, even if the words themselves aren’t so powerful. so i really appreciate that stuff. it’s good stuff.

yep. that’s all. i hope this satisfies your curiosity, anon!!!