#soulform

Being emotion- and touch-oriented, I’d always wondered what my presence Feels like to Sensitive People.

...but I realized, sometime in the past five years, that [statistically] people SEE energies and presences, more than “feel” them the way I’d always assumed.

So tonight, I was Soulform-connective, vividly. (I’ve been all night, for some reason.)

And, only one person in my face-to-face life has ever commented on it. (He may well have been lying, considering the source.)

But I always wonder, if other people notice The Wings.

Tonight, I realized: People see (if they See) something specific.

“When other people see me, do they see the purple? Or black, blue, shadow, or if they see white and gold? (if they can see White and Gold, then I have a little thing going by PCP that i might need to talk to them about.)”

i wonder if it depends on what I’M feeling? (as an empath though, that’s my default assumption.) then again, with the Shifting, i’ve always sensed Changes with Mindset / Emotion / Power.)

.......i just realized, i wish people could tell me if they’re seeing any Red.

But.

You know.

If anybody notices, not one single person outside of that possible liar has ever bothered to mention it to me.

(it’s almost a daily thing though, to secretly hope that somebody notices She Has Wings. ;; )

....but, they’re there whether you notice them or not. So

it’s just compounded by NExus / alternate-facet-soulform nonsense.

They say you never forget your fist time.

But I don’t even remember…doing it.

I don’t remember the shape of my soul, the one that opened up the world to me. I only remember when it happened.

I remember that night so clearly. Mom and Dad were fighting again, yelling about some undone chore of some sort. My two brothers, in their shared bedroom, were fighting about who to blame for my parents’ fighting.

And me, in my bedroom alone hearing both fights at once through paper-thin walls that allowed no secrets, had finally had enough. I snuck out at the loudest of the two-way yelling as quietly as possible, and went out as far in the field outside the house as I could.

Everyone kept telling us not to go too far out in the grass, or too deep into the woods beyond. You’ll get lost, they say, like that cousin everybody has but barely remembers that did just that, and was never heard from again.

I remember the moment my feet touched the ground outside the door. I remember the moment the grass started to brush against me as I went. I remember looking up at the clear sky full of stars, cloudless and moonless.

I remember the moment when walking in that grass was no longer enough and I started running, relishing in the distance from the shouting voices I gained as I kept going. I even remember the intense dissatisfaction I felt at running on two legs, and the strain on my back. The way I suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw myself forward and grab the ground in front of me, and force it behind me to push myself onward, further. The way the wind started singing in my ears, whistling at my speed. As if I could, with enough momentum, throw myself into the air and catch the wind…