She’s the girl who has a strange obsession with fruit and cramming her hair into a bun at almost all times. She gets lazy, and takes out her glasses before bed, and first thing in the morning. Her morning hair is atrocious. She spends most of her time reading, and observing. That’s all she does. She sees everything. But with that, she forgets the small things. The dirty dishes, your second favorite color, her anti-persperant.
She’s so stubborn. But she’s working on that. She’s even said ‘you’re right’ recently. She’s so stressed about her life, yet not at all. Her cool, calm, elegant demeanor sheds every night sometimes. But you usually help her get to bed.
The one thing she’s wishing for right now is to live with you; Be that extra lump in your bed. She wants to have you come home to her, crisscross in her chair with a book and a cup of tea in hand (which was close to tipping over and soiling her baggy shirt before you came in). She’d look up from her book, glasses on the end of her nose, her high cheekbones raising with a joyous, warm smile.
This is who I am right now.
I need to gather my crystals and bottles. I need to create my book of shadows. I need to set time aside to meditate more often. I need money to buy herds and candles.
I don’t wear this pentacle for fucking ‘fashion’ or to be in ‘trend’. It’s a part of my belief. I am discussed to those who compliment mine and wear one to be ‘hip’ and expect that I do as well.
But no one cares about my religion. Why bother getting angry?
I want a Wiccan revelation. Don’t treat my symbol as a fashion statement.
I miss the texture of your skin. I miss the creases that form when you smile at me. I miss how your arms encircle me perfectly, and hold me tight. I miss nuzzling the fur under your chin, and cuddling up as close as possible to you, even if I had just did that a moment before. I miss you commenting on how warm I am, and resting your head on mine. I miss the comments of how I smell good. I miss your scent. I miss your body touching mine. I am the Yin, missing Yang.
I feel a little empty. My body feels too loose, having the extra space your body usually takes up. I feel cold. I feel like I’m taking too much space, here on my own. I want you here to compare, since you’re so much bigger than I. I am the Yin, deprived Yang.
I am the moon, unlit from the lack of sun. I am the shadow not formed from the lack of light. I am the nighttime of the top, northern pole. I am Yin without Yang.