2moons2

[2moons2]

i face my fears and cry.

[2moons2]

I will continue to dream of mossy grounds, oceans that kiss the sides of mountains, and suns that peak through the tops of trees in a dance of misty skies. Trees as tall as the cliffs beside them, sounds of nature caressing your senses, wind from all sides. A dream dreamt within dreams.

[2moons2]

truth is a double edged sword,

merciless, yet full of love

[2moons2]

Getting ready to become supernatual:

“I got very clear that I should give up my futile efforts to convince that community of anything and instead direct my energy to a whole other part of the population that does believe in possibility and does want to listen to what I have to say.

What a relief it was to fully embrace that idea and to let go of any attempt to make a difference in that other world.”

-becoming supernatural, Dr. Joe Dispenza

[2moons2]

not my sister who never likes any of my posts unless they involve her, unfollowing me on ig instead of blocking me like she always does. You can always tell when someone who wants to have access to you so bad is your secret hater cause they’ll put on a crazy act and still choose to not support you or the person you are becoming if it doesn’t directly benefit them or makes them the “bad” person.

[2moons2]

Every blade of grass has its Angel

that bends over it and whispers,

“Grow, grow”

The artists way

[2moons2]

btw I am doing it afraid

[2moons2]

have you ever known a person who tries to forget?

how about someone who will do anything to forget.

not just fill their time with something new, or different. But develop a habit of forgetting. An act of forgetting. Forgetting the memories that made you, you; no matter how heart breaking, painstaking, traumatizing or how beautiful, amazing, blissful. Forgetting the glisten of light when the sun peaks through the trees tops as you look up. Forgetting how your child body woke as the dawn breaks to gather who you can to go play in the sun light. Why did no one tell you that forgetting the awful came with forgetting the sun.

how heartbreaking it is, to watch someone forget. On purpose.

[2moons2]

for a long while I thought thinking like a man would save me from a world that is blind to softness. Knowing a woman’s word is a synchronic dance. An ancestral anchoring into truth and becoming.

[2moons2]

having non toxic friends is craaazy wdym she apologized for accidentally coming off as rude and condescending. wdym she doesn’t ignore me completely. this isawrsome sauc

[2moons2]

dont let my unintelligibility distract from my message

[2moons2]

bitch this is all you’re gonna get. this life, this face, this body. you better not ‘maybe in another universe’ your way out of everything. sit your ass down and face this. go make tea and have a picnic and read a goddamn book. kiss your loved ones, send that damn text, and hug your siblings. this is all you’re gonna get.

[2moons2]

Bathing in dreams

laying weightless in a bath of all your hopes and dreams

scents of citrus caressing your most intimate parts

Calendula flower resting at the foot of your desires

a soft harp singing into your breath, surely you must know the ache of relief, seeping into the deepest parts of you

dreaming in your wake, a purse of water on your lips, so real you could almost feel it

a divine meeting, your dreams and you

[2moons2]

mutuals would you frolic in a field with me be honest

[2moons2]

“Everything’s a risk. Not doing anything is a risk. It’s up to you.”

— Nicola Yoon, Everything, Everything

[2moons2]

When I write, it's like a wave of delirious metaphors are excavated out of my throat thrown into my fingertips and splattered on any form of expression it can find. Sometimes a wreck, sometimes just right, a lot of the time just words scratching the surface of what's to be felt within. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't write if I have not much to say, no wisdom, knowledge, or conviction in my voice. And so, I write to write out of spite of that feeling. To let it out everywhere. Not just my journal. A world of who I am feels contained by Non expression to the outside world. Like the feeling of not being good enough to release these expressions out into the world drowns me on land. It's no longer a need to be seen, to be worthy, to be affirmed. It's a need to speak, to relish in the uncommon thoughts, to allow myself in its entirety to be in its entirety. All that I'm interested in to be filled with me as well. A taking up space that can be dangerous and yet a teacher of coming back to self in the end, always.

[2moons2]

Your body speaks to you in ways that feel like you're dying or flying.

A skipped beat or flip in your chest feel the same as both death and union.

When you're crying on your back, chest rumbling like a thousand-year storm, listen to it.

When you're lying on your back, body weightless like a ship in the calmest of seas, listen to it.

the depth of undiscovered inner knowing is soppy, dredged in truth like an untouched forest of moss. Listen to it. Follow it. Learn it. Sit in it.