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šŗš¬šØšµ Ā š»šÆš¶š“šØšŗ Ā š¶ ' š“šØš³š³š¬šĀ Ā .. Ā Ā as Ā Ā the Ā robin .Ā
letāsĀ sayĀ youāreĀ drivingĀ downĀ theĀ roadĀ withĀ yourĀ eyesĀ CLOSEDĀ butĀ myĀ eyesĀ areĀ alsoĀ closed .Ā letāsĀ sayĀ oneĀ ofĀ usĀ isĀ peeking .Ā no ,Ā letāsĀ not .Ā iĀ donātĀ haveĀ toĀ tellĀ youĀ anything .
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okay I know my icon is only funny to me but every time I look at it I laugh. gabe saporta looking smug with the caption āfeeling incompleteā is top tier comedy
I used to believe in twin flames, because I was desperate to feel complete. Because I didn't realize that the feeling of incompleteness came from my own dissociative barriers in my own mind.
When I first snapped out of it, it was hard to process, and I certainly wasn't ready to talk about it. What doesn't help is that I didn't fall down the rabbit hole alone. We were both drowning souls, clinging to whatever gave us comfort. We bonded over fandoms, and let our imaginations carry us away to the most ridiculous things. The spiritual things that happened just fueled the fire into an inferno.
We talked it out, and settled things just fine. The drowning souls bit was paraphrased from her. I just have a really hard time not feeling horrified at what could have happened. The possibilities scare me.
Edit: In case this wasn't plainly obvious, I do hate the concept of twin flames. It is completely toxic.
-Sammy š§šŗ
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Writing Dilemma
You know that feeling, when you have a scene or a whole movie of a ship playing in your head over and over again?
And you know you donāt want to write it down, because itās stupid and you never going to post it.
But you have this nagging feeling of not really being able to move on. Because this story is in your head but more like clouds and the only way to have peace is if you get your ass up and write it down? Like an annoying itchy feeling that just wonāt stop and drives you crazy
I was walking through the streets I could not hear my best friend call He was feeling incomplete about to take his final fall Last thing I remember there were tears of blood and just not mine Any other day and I would save you from this cold decline
Static
Life isn't static now it changes every day im on my way northwards a new way to begin
I was always worried about the scars left behind long away from the lost love the bruised and unkind.
breathing is different act now, a steady inward draw. coupled with an exhale let out gently in awe.
All I know is what I have flawed and unfinished me. a forever work in progress. Magnum Opus incomplete.
Time tends to heal the broken parts. sharp edges wear smooth with age. an ever changing scenery new places, faces and names.
