Tapping the mic, seeing if we have gods attention.
Adjusting rituals. It’s not, “how to nullify this contract” it’s “how will this contract be adjusted.”
It’s making that five-year plan in earnest, a pretty obvious natural lie, and allow it to be divinely corrected.
We have to make mistakes and fail to get the attention of god. To have our natural laws, corrected, redefined. It’s absurd, but it’s knowing.
It’s a trick.
You can hold still. God wants to see you fail, be humiliated, literally fucking die, to beckon your rebirth.
Not ceremony, ritual.
J talked to M about meditation once and she hated it. Resisted. An obvious medicine for her body turning inside out. She’d be a shell?
All her super powers hard fought acquired, born with, supernatural - would be for naught.
I’ve seen a husk person. A cautionary tale. This is what happens when you go to god direct, and don’t take the long tricky pathways.
You cheat, but not cheat.
I’m wanting to make a real commitment to myself but this will be tested.
And maybe it’s a trick. Making I am earnestly tricking. But this is no way to live. Right?
I heard a meme, I wish I had it. It was perfect. About not wanting to get in a questionable partnership because I’m focusing on me rn. And I don’t know how long this version of me is gonna last. And I want to cherish this time.
Can I offer friendship?
My contract with my mom is the strongest. I’m worried about that. Because she’s my person and always has been. And I get this time with her. And I don’t want to adjust this contract in any way.
But I have other selves I want to grow into. I want to speak French fluently before I die.
I know that means I have to go.
What will I regret more? Is it about regret? Or the possibility of vulnerability? Telling my mom I rly love her and leaving. Leaving to come back to meet her again, both of us different. Having walked through a death in t
he way my brother must see with her, and we with him. Whenever we see him. A new birth. A new death.Always someone we love, but you’re always a little afraid you won’t see them again. That something will have fundamentally gone away. They won’t see you either, even though you’re there.
I swear, it’s still me.
I’m getting to a point where I don’t recognize myself.
It’s slight. I try to stay on-brand for the sake of consistency but the charges, I see in my face. In my eyes.
I look like my aunt. I even tilt my head in photos the way she does.
And in this natural challenge, this shifting trajectory, shifting the train tracks with my lever to run over the large man? Or the school children? Do we need the distance to decide?
“You’re now in the train..” they say and we suck air through our teeth.
To make choices. Fundamentally unnatural? We ask god in those moments and get nothing. The slightest omen, a robin in an aspen spitting mash into the mouths of its offspring. This is how god responds.
Billy mentioned being asexual. “Lol never,” I had said in response. “You can choose to be celibate though.” He’s life contract screams romance and sex. It’s heavy in everything about him.
An observation. Possibly wrong. Rude of me regardless.
Sydney used to tease god by speaking outloud of joining a nunnery. She knew the hack.
I can’t believe that worked.
A obsidian stone shifting itself to the top of the rubble to see the sun for the first time, gleaming like an oil slick for a crone to pocket and cast a death spell.
Is this how god speaks?
In what way do we answer?