personal

A Narrative; A Character Study

I picked my sister up in the Camry after work. I’ve preferred the Camry as of late because I have more control and more control equates to going faster. It’s not like driving the Explorer, which is all weight and no fluidity. There’s nothing gratuitous about driving a tank. We drove on auto-pilot to our restaurant, to our table – my camera loaded in the back, the weight of feeling everything at once on my shoulders. I had a beer with my lunch while we discussed Camaros and court cases. I had every intention of only going so far out of town that the fresh air would loosen the grip on my lungs. Breathing has been a labor of love the last couple of weeks; staying conscious has been accompanied by nausea and rage. The universe had other plans and I found myself bringing the accelerator to ninety as we careened around the snow-heavy mountainsides. Sometimes you go on a spontaneous adventure – sometimes you lie out of a ticket. Sometimes you talk about books and husbands but the words you need find themselves stuck between your teeth.

I wouldn’t tell her that the only religious experiences that I’ve had revolved around muscle cars, tattoos, and nicotine. The phrase “he was baptized under a stream of self-sacrifice and bare tree limbs but I see a sinner in the mirror when I tie up my hair” would not form itself without leaving the shadow of bitterness behind. I so desperately wanted to tell her that he had learned to love a god that had dragged me through embers and the only worship that I understand is self-destruction. I still have the hole in my palm where I had discovered how to turn their addictions into barbed wire while he brushed them away like sand. I wanted to tell her that he was the color of pine – a source of comfort and solidity – whose branches I could cling onto when the world tipped on its axis. I didn’t tell her that I was the color of a bruise blooming under tired skin, a storm of salt water and shards of stained glass. I would never vocalize that I felt as if smoke and ink replaced vital parts in me, my bones and blood had been insubstantial for longer than I could remember. The world was quieter when I was far away, under the tattoo needle, going too fast. I need substances to stay awake, substances to fall asleep… my own haunted house. I am a fragment of a constellation; the aftershock of a thunderstorm. I am petrified of heights but graveyards make me feel whole. I have bloodied my knuckles intentionally more times than I can count and he has always brought peace to any environment. He is the saved turned savior and I wear a crown of thorns to all my affairs. 

My sister knows about anger. She knows the walk that I make from driver seat to front porch is stained with grief. She knows that when I hear the sound of gravel under my boots that the years are soaking through to my skin and I’m imagining the slick crunching noises are actually femurs and scapulae. She knows of the night terrors that follow me around and the stories I read to make them subside. She knows that I wear oceans inside my veins and frost bite under my nails. 

I do not have to say it but 

she knows.

She always 

knows. 

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books

How We Find Ourselves In Books

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I was so drawn to the characters in the Raven Cycle series, especially Ronan or Kavinsky. They’re so contradictory and prickly, what could I possibly see in them, especially Ronan? 

Well, my friends, the mystery is solved: it’s because I, small and hateful angry bean, AM RONAN LYNCH. 

For the love of fuck, look at this shit!

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I dress like that on accident, man! That is an actual face that I make at other human beings. (I’m the one on the left, by the way. I know some of you probably didn’t know that)

How many times have we fallen in love with a book or a series because we resonate so closely with the characters? I’ve been devoured by these books, turned completely inside out, chewed up, and spit back out. It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing yourself in typewriter font.

For example, here is the List of Things That I Have In Common With Ronan Lynch Because I Need More Reasons To Stay Awake At Night 

  • trust fund babies
  • literally, we’re just privileged assholes with no verbal filters
  • my birthday falls on St. Patricks’ Day aka the Irish Day; Ronan is Irish af
  • taste in music that everyone fucking hates
  • don’t talk to us when we have headphones on, don’t touch our tattoos
  • give us a something fast and we’re happy
  • or, give us music and alcohol and we’ll be restless but better
  • we both lost parents and turned into bitter douche canoes
  • we will both end your life if you fuck with our baby brothers
  • or our friends
  • fucking with my friends is a sure-fire way to get your life ended
  • wear black and keep our resting bitch faces on point but are really full of feelings
  • a LOT of feelings
  • both think our boyfriends are some sort of godlike angel when in reality we are dating huge nerds
  • super sensitive to all things. don’t deny that Ronan Lynch is a sensitive mofo, he literally won’t let Gansey boy make other friends
  • both of us have had Kavinskys in our lives; we ended up not being with them because they were toxic af and would’ve ruined our shit
  • love our dads very much
  • treat our pets like children
  • NIGHT TERRROOORS
  • like no friends but really fond of the ones we have
  • beings of rage and love
  • raised on a farm
  • raised Catholic AF
  • hates most things, including ourselves
  • is either dropping the F-bomb, flipping you off or being sarcastic
  • actual trophy wives
  • would rather die than hurt someone we love
  • PTSD, depression, and anxiety up the wazooo

There’s more, a lot more, but that’s the general gist of my argument. We fall so hard for these characters because we see ourselves in them. We love them when we cannot love our own souls. They are catalysts to the breaking of our hearts and the slow, aching awareness that brings us back to wholeness. The characters we love are constellations in the galaxies that reside in our bones.

I am so elated to be made up of these beings, these people that I will never meet. Their presence forces me to stop and remember my gushing affection or them and that reminds me to love myself, as well. The cycle is continuous and beautiful and my gratitude for the writers who penned the puzzle pieces of who I am is infinite.

I did actually pick up reading again – my book hangover has subsided a bit. I’m currently listening to We Are Okay by Nina LaCour and reading The Young Wives Club by Julie Pennel. I heard that you kind of need to force yourself to read again and that it really helps to pick something in a completely different genre. So, I guess I’ll read other books until my Dream Theif trilogy arrives. I GUESS.

In the meantime, I have my gorgeous new tarot cards, drawn by my Scorpio soulmate Maggie Stiefvater herself to work with. My favorite part of these cards is the accompanying book that comes with them – the translations are witty as hell. Its hard to find cards with translations that you actually resonate with! I swear this is a problem in the cartomancy community!

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I actually had dreams about ghosts and my cousin last night but the best part was that she greeted me with a Jersey accent, mimicking my problematic son Joseph Kavinsky, and said “DICK GANNNSSSSAAAAAY THE THIRD!!”. It was such a calming sensation, hearing a 17-year-old drug  Bulgarian  drug addict mobster’s voice come out of my 21-year-old, and very female, cousin’s voice box. I’m not kidding, I woke up and I was like “So this is how the pieces fall together”

I hope everyone has a book character that they love so much it causes them physical pain. I know that I have several, because life is a fucking nightmare. 

That’s all there is,

Carry on

The Book Witch

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personal, poetry

Three Years Later 


Tomorrow will be 3 years since I lost you. Holy. Fucking. Shit. I don’t remember everything about you, and G O D how I wish I could remember everything, but I do remember how you wore your emotions like a second skin. I never had to guess what you were feeling, but maybe we were so close that we felt the same things. In the last three years, I have heard more “she was just your grandma”s or “some people have lost parents, don’t be so selfish”s than I can count. “Just” does not begin to describe what you were to me and I miss you like fucking hell. I miss you when I’m wedding planning, I miss you when I touch my shoulder, I miss you when I sit with Papa, I miss you when I hold Jay’s hand. I wear my anger so close to me now. I miss you every time I fall apart and pick my pieces back up again.  I know I’m supposed to forgive the universe or whoever-the-fuck took you, but I can’t and I won’t. I feel like I was one person, then you left, and I became someone else entirely. Honestly, I didn’t even know it was this late in February and maybe it explains why the last couple of weeks have felt like a sucker punch to the ribs. Grief has never left my side. He clings to me like a stray dog and instead of shooing him away, I let him guide me home. Somedays, I feel like you took up the space of the whole world – you were the sun and we were the planets orbiting around you. You ripped a hole in the galaxy when you left and I have not stopped bleeding stars since. You left in a puff of smoke and mint, collapsing the ecosystem in your wake. I don’t blame you (maybe a little, but those are moments when I am lacking much of myself) for taking my gravitational pull. Today was a solar eclipse in Pisces and I think that’s fitting for how I feel. You are, after all, the solar eclipse and I, the Pisces. I lack words for how badly I wish this astrological alignment would ease the pressure on my heart. You taught me about the stars and their placements in my soul. Do you remember rolling your eyes at Capricorns and scoffing at Geminis? Your death was an explosion and instead of absorbing the shock, I combusted, too.

 I miss your acceptance of me, I miss our friendship. I miss how you were the glue to all my pieces. I remember how you hated Johnny Cash and cussed about him in the car. You hated tattoos and rock music and yet you loved me. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. 

God damn, me. 

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books

The Worst Book Hangover EVER // My beloved male characters

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I FINISHED THE RAVEN CYCLE SERIES AND IT LEFT  GIANT, GAPING MAW THE SIZE OF RONAN LYNCH IN MY CHEST. 

I’m upset because its over and I’m extra upset because I feel like there’s literally no fandom for this. There’s not nearly enough fanfiction or Tumblr posts to tide me over until I die and have “I am being perfectly fucking civil” written on my tombstone. My cousin gets it, she read the series and I am very grateful that I have a single human  who I can text at 4 am with shit like “remember when Noah said he was ‘much more when he was alive’ because I remember and it hurts”

I loved all the characters so much. I really enjoy stories that focus on more than one character and have men as the focal point. I know that Blue is a huge part of the series but she fit so well into the weird fabric that is the Raven Boys, that I tend to lump them all together. I cannot begin to express how much I loved this series. I’m devastated that it’s over.

I heard, however, that Ronan is getting HIS OWN TRILOGY AND I AM VERY EXCITED. No one deserves that series like the middle Lynch child. Maggie talked about it in August, so we probably won’t see it for a while but it is reassuring that there will be a continuation for my small gay son. I have been buying A L L the Ronan Lynch merch. I kid you not, I made an appointment to get an RC tattoo the day after I finished the series and I’m FUCKING ECSTATIC to show everyone. My fiance is convinced that I am Ronan and he doesn’t know much about Adam… but if we’re comparing people to Raven Boys, lemme just say that Jason is the most Adam-y person there is.

Speaking of male humans that I love, I decided to turn this post into My Top Male Characters and Why They’re Sweet Babies Who Need Protection At All Costs. 

These are ranked from most favorite to “I will still fight someone for you, at some point” There are **SPOILERS** in this list. 

Here it is – the reasons that I can’t sleep, my precious angels.

  1.  RONAN LYNCH (The Raven Boys) – Whatever ninth circle of Hell that Ronan crawled out of, I came from the same one. Everything about him is admirable: his beautiful cussing poetry, his BMW, his love for his friends, the Murder Squash Song. Like Ronan, I too, enjoy driving things in illegal ways, shitty EDM, being “the friend with tattoos” and the loner. Ronan would totally be in Slytherin. He gets +20 points for having a raven as a sidekick. Also, he’s a really great example of a man who likes men but is allowed to keep his masculinity. I love him and I love his secret tenderness and generosity.  Bad boys with feelings, forever.
  2. JOSEPH KAVINSKY (The Raven Boys) – Hear me out, okay. I know that he’s kind of a piece of shit but he is the prime example of self-destruction and if I know something about anything, it is self-destructive habits. Poor K, who just loved Ronan and wanted Ronan to love him. I love how he uses humor to cover up his emotions because that’s my primary coping mechanism, too. He’s an asshole and I love him and it broke my heart that he died the way he did. #josephkaviskymatters2017 SAT that, Dick. 
  3. DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY – This is fairly self-explanatory. He’s the Slytherin-with-too-many-feelings poster child and my life would be a horrible, dark place without his overly-assertive existence. Come here, my precious douche-bag child. I love all the douche bags and I’m proud. 
  4. SETH MORGAN (Wicked Lovely) – Draco and Seth were my first book-boyfriends. He’s the kind of guy that girls dream of; the selfless best friend. I loved Seth from the start and I knew that he was going to end up being like “Here’s my life, babe. Just take it” Seth was so wise and humble, too. He needs All of the Love Forever. If he would’ve died, I would have gone with him.
  5. DORIAN HAVILLARD (Throne of Glass) – Protect him, please. I’m not gonna say much about him but if any of you who are reading this have any connection to Queen Maas… Please, just… spare my book-loving, magic-wielding nerd son. You can kill Chaol – just don’t touch my king cinnamon roll.
  6. TYRANNUS BASILTON GRIMM PITCH (Carry On) – Ah, yes. Another dark-souled, self-deprecating, asshole who turns out to be in love with The Golden Boy and hopelessly gay. Can you see the pattern, yet? 
  7. DEATH (The Arcana Chronicles) – Complete asshole with too many feels – not gay, but very relevant. His whole back story just sucks and he just keeps drawing the short end of the proverbial scythe.
  8. NEWT SCAMANDER – Terribly awkward beast mom. 10/10 would cuddle.
  9. RICHARD GANSEY III (Raven Cycle) – Honestly, he puts up with so much shit. I might think he’s a little bitch, sometimes, but like… he has been the Group Dad since Day 1 and will probably never stop… Adam straight went to him?! and was like?! Hey, can I date your daughter, Ronan?! I promise I won’t kill him?! and Gansey was like ‘Don’t you harm a hair on his angry, attractive head and I won’t have to pay someone to bury your body. Just kidding, here’s a $100… I’m happy for you, but really, he’s very sensitive”

 

Here are some photos of my new stickers! I have more coming! I love stickers!

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Shout out to Jason, who puts up with my book merch addiction and lets me use him as a photo prop. 10/10 would marry.

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Have a great week, everyone! Go read a book series that destroys the core of your being so that we can suffer together 🙂

 

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books

What I’m Reading + Bookish Tattoos

Hello, friends!

I bet you all thought since I got my laptop back I would be blogging a lot! W R O N G! But really, its not for any exciting reason, I just had a rough couple of weeks.

I did, however, get my Fuck Love tattoo.

tattoo

Here’s the caption that went with it:

“Let people feel the weight of who you are and let them deal with it” I will not be afraid of letting the reality of my existence take up space in the world. i will not apologize for my curves or the dichotomy of the sharp angles and softness of my hips. i will not dumb myself down to make you more comfortable. being ashamed of intelligence is a horrendous thing. i will not apologize for my purple hair, my tattoos, my done or undone face. i will never sacrifice my empathy, my ambition, or my ruthlessness. i won’t tell you i’m sorry for needing time away from other humans to feel whole again or for the books in my purse. i won’t be beat down for my truth – the splotchy mind of pock marked depression and OCD and panic disorder. i will not be ashamed of the bridge between lobes that confuses colors with numbers, my constant entanglement of senses. i won’tgive excuses for my love of kurt cobain and johnny cash. let me love what i need to, let me say what needs to be said. i am a ragged breath under a star filled sky.

Sorry for the blood!

I really felt at home in the tattoo shop I went to for this one; I liked my first artists because they were my friends prior to me being a client but I deeply loved something about Nichole. She reminded me of a winter fairy working in a tattoo shop, like stepping into the series that convinced me that tattoos were to be cherished and collected at all costs. I am stoked to finish the rest of my book sleeve.

I’m gonna have to include something from the Throne of Glass series since I finished Queen of Shadows last week and I felt something latch onto my soul. I love that fucking series. I cannot get over how much I love that series. Like holy shit, it is blowing my mind. I just love Aelin and Rowan and Manon and my sweet cinnamon roll Dorian. If my little #friendshipgoals group doesn’t survive this series I will personally end someone’s life as a payment for theirs. I still strongly dislike Chaol, strongly. Dislike. With. a. Passion.  Everyone talks about the Inner Circle of ACOTAR being the six best friends that anyone could ever have but have you met my sweET TERRASEN RULING COURT?! HAVE YOU MET THEM AND BASKED IN THE GLORY OF THEIR FRIENDSHIP?! I DID AND I FUCKING CRIED.

I even got a cute little Manon/ Dorian candle set! (I don’t have a problem)

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They smell like happiness and they make me smile, isn’t that enough for you?

I also got a new BuJo (or bullet journal as the academics might call it) that was inspired by Manon. Oh, and I have more stickers and a new wallet on the way, that are also ToG related. Can you tell who my favorite character is? I’ll give you two guesses. You’re probably also wondering what tea that is – it’s the Malfoy Tea Emporium’s flavor, Haunted Library. How can you scroll past a shop called Malfoy’s Tea Emporium with teas like Haunted Library, Queen of the Underworld, and Rhysand? Draco Malfoy deserved better. 

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Speaking of friendship goals, I’m almost 3/4 of the way through the Raven Cycle series and I just?! how?! does she write?! characters like?! THAT!!!! I am in love with all the sweet Raven Boys and Blue A N D the Grey Man AND everyone at 300 Fox Way and Kavinski for some weird, probably really deeply ingrained psychological issue. Its so intricate and amazing and has moved its way up into my Top 5 series, just like Throne of Glass. I’m gonna have to add the Raven Cycle to my book sleeve. I really love books that focus on more than one character, like the other characters are allowed to have pasts and fears and hobbies. I’m so madly, truly in love with the Steifvater and Maas write stories, they’re polar opposites and yet so many things are similar and both are so worthy of attention. Raven Cycle doesn’t seem to have as big of a fandom as ToG which bums me out because, again, I really liked Kavinski and I feel like I need to receive feedback as to whether that’s normal or not.

I finished Shade Me, the book about the girl with synesthesia trying to solve a mystery. It was… okay. She was a pretty lame character with lame love interests and lame enemies. The mystery was good and I liked how twisted it was but I was still left going “What the fuck? That doesn’t make any sense” at the end. I did appreciate the representation of synethesia, though. Its uncommon in books and its such a wicked way of having your brain wired. I have it mildly, and by mildly (insert Lemony Snicket voice), a word which here means, not as severe as this book character, I am referring to the fact that it still makes me want to rip my hair out from unwanted stimulus. I started Grave Mercy and it seems I have a thing for assassins or minions of death, in general.

I’ve been on a weird poetry kick lately and I found this gem at my town’s Barnes and Noble. 100_0144.JPGBy “this gem” I mean the Johnny Cash poetry collection. I cannot even begin to articulate how much I love Johnny Cash. He was my childhood friend and I will probably request “Highwayman” to play at my funeral. I will be getting a Johnny tattoo at some point.

Have a great weekend; I will hopefully have the time to write again, soon

Carry on,

The Book Witch

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personal

Thankful for Youtube Tutorials + Good Highlighter

I’m taking a break from Facebook for a few days; I am one of the millions of human beings who struggles with deep rooted mental illness and sometimes it makes me feel better to just exercise control over very insignificant things – it reminds me that there are so many aspects of my life that will never go the way I want them to, but I can always tackle the world one niche at a time.

Speaking of things to tackle, I have been watching lots of tutorials on YouTube about taking photos! I learned, and don’t judge me (I know that this is super basic rule #1 and I should’ve known already) that lighting is very,  very important. I know, I told you in advance. So, I played around with it today and….

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KODAK Digital Still Camera

ITS SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE KIND OF PICTURES I WAS CONVINCED THAT I WOULD BE TAKING FOREVER.

I got another book about DSLR tricks so that’s on my list of tasks to conquer this weekend. I’ve mostly been teaching myself by playing with buttons and watching YouTube tutorials. I love YouTube, it’s surprisingly educational and I’m fairly certain there’s a video for everything. If you’re angry because there’s not a video for something and you think there should be, make one. I watched some videos about flat-lays, which is the primary kind of pictures that I’ve been posting here and to my Bookstagram (@_bookwitchblog, I know you were wondering). Inspired, I grabbed my paperback copy of Raven Boys and some props (I say props because I don’t know how to explain the coyote bones that I collect or the massive amounts of crystals that I own).

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I think it turned out cute, look what Chandler did! I’m gonna go to Michaels when I can and get some new paper for the background – marbles, water, and whatnot. I also need to collect things to supplement my books. Books are friends and thus, need friends.

Also, are you guys makeup collectors like me? Incidentally, my love of makeup started through books. The first reason is that I had a couple thrift store books growing up that were all about the history of makeup and makeup artists. I adored those books. Secondly, I love book-character inspired makeup. I used to play around with Katniss themed smokey eyes when I was younger. I really think that makeup is either really loved or really hated; I think the creativity that people employ when applying their makeup is amazing. I have seen some of the most mind-blowing expressions of talent on Instagram, Tumblr and Facebook. Let me know if you’ve ever done a book-themed makeup, hair, or fashion look – I would love to see it.

Anyway, thanks for looking! I have a feeling that I will love experimenting with this project.

Carry on,

The Book Witch

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Uncategorized

Some Thoughts on Soulmates

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…” – Elizabeth Gilbert

As you can tell, I read a lot. I’ve thumbed through the pages of books that have characters in them who claim to be “soulmates” and, to be honest, I hate that fucking word. I do! I think its a horrible, limited way of describing your love for someone. I think people say soulmates because they lack a better term for it. Maybe they’re trying to say “My soul was at peace when I met them” or “Our eyes locked and I saw myself in the depths” or “I have never loved anything this monumentally”

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I am so fortunate to have more than one soulmate, and though it sounds hypocritical, I say “soulmate” because I lack the vocabulary to explain how I feel. I never met a romantic soulmate of mine and I doubt I ever will. I had a couple soulmates who happen to be men and we fucked everything up by trying to be more. I miss them, every day. I miss how easy it was to talk to them before we “dated” and now that we’ve been inevitably together and gone separate ways, I know that I can never have them back in the way that I did. I don’t know if that’s selfish but I think it might be. I just wish I still had their friendship without all the strange moments of “What are we?”

I have other soulmates. I have a best friend who appreciates that I was probably supposed to be a mix of Hermione and Luna but someone decided I’d have more fun as a hybrid of Bellatrix Lestrange and Remus Lupin. It’s been great, thanks.  I work with a girl who makes my heart feel calm whenever I see her. I work with girls who challenge me and understand me and push me. They are all my soulmates. The ones who push me radiate violet, and if I believed in the strings of fate, I think heavy, purple cords would connect us. I’ve had soulmates who broke my heart and left me bleeding all kinds of colors. They remind me of small cherry threads that I will have to cut someday to fully heal. I can feel the cracks in my chest that they left as if they were palpable. I have soulmates that I don’t speak to, out of respect for myself. I have soulmates that I have nightmares of running into and wake up with ghosts of tears on my face.

I have never done things halfway – especially love. As someone who is drained by social interaction and needs to pick her accomplices very carefully, I am either 100% invested in you, or not at all. Don’t come into my life with the intention of giving minimal effort; I carry scissors with me at all times and I will cut the ties that bind us before you knew they were there.

I can recognize my soulmates by one thing: I don’t have to dumb myself down for them. That is the only way that I’ve learned to survive in a world that rejects intelligent women: deny, deny, deny that you are one. I don’t mean to sound egotistical, but I am a woman of high intelligence and survival instincts like you wouldn’t believe. I know that to keep myself out of trouble, I stay cute and sweet and then destroy if I am crossed. My soulmates have never made me doubt my worth, have never made me question my intelligence. They’ve made me question my views, my priorities, and my footing – but never the things that come intrinsically to who I am.

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I’ve read so many books where the narrator has said that the person felt like nothing else mattered after meeting this one person, that their lives improved tenfold. I am here to tell you that soulmates are not some shiny package containing the answers to our questions. They are the shakers, the movers, the destroyers of our lives. You will meet them on coffee dates and some of them will only be available for late-night adventures. You’ll find that at least one will hate your taste in music or will be disgusted with how you prepare your tea. They will insert themselves into the marrow of your bones and you will wonder how you were missing such a vital piece all along. I have a soulmate who is three years old and has taught me more about understanding and empathy than anyone else I have known. I had a soulmate die and take half of me with her. They are not here to make things perfect, they are here to show you that life is so much better when it’s messy.

Carry on,

The Book Witch

 

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