It’s easier to cut people out than to learn to differentiate between the chronically demanding and the occasionally needy. It’s war, we tell ourselves.
If citrine is supposed to bring you abundance, what might it bring if you didn’t need so much wealth in our capitalist hellscape?
When we dress up, when we experiment, sometimes it’s because we are trying to discover who we are. But sometimes it’s because we already know and have nothing to hide.
I’ve been wondering what my edges really are, and finding they don’t exist. I feel myself shimmer with every conflicting thought.
When love and femininity are intertwined, only some of us are expected to do the job of loving.
Maybe telling ourselves we’re balanced, that we’re in control, is almost as good as the real thing.
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Every time someone guesses wrong, I am the one to apologize.
