What Is It, You Fight For?

What is it, you fight for?

I keep asking myself the question. What is it that I fight for! This question, sprouted in thought because I feel that this planet is sooo fucking ghetto. I’m not saying that I have been on other’s. Or even know wha it’s like. But! What I am saying is that It has to be better some way some how!!! Why is it that we have to pay to live on this planet and for what! Also not to mention we're also kept in line by some fictional being that regulates how well you deal with bull shit it decides to put you through. To me! None of this makes sense. What so fucking ever.

Today I was on the metro north train. Headed from Yonkers to Grand Central. Me not paying any mind to whats going on around me. Because I’m busy being face down on my phone scrolling through “Tic Toks” to make me laugh or to feel righteous abut some social injustice done right. That I did not notice that I made it to yankee stadium. Where all of my alarms bells and whistles have gone off. Because a bunch of loud and drunken white folks have gotten on from the game.

You see I’m not always around white folk. And when and or if I am, It is because I have to be. This was crazy all of them were very loud. And very drunk and very disturbing. The group started chanting, fuck Biden. And other game like chants. I had no problem wit what they were saying I just had an issue with the volume. I became super perturbed and even greatly annoyed. My ears flickered and my face, it rested like it never rested before. This resting bitch face, felt so legendary that it could have starred in its own Movie. A movie that literally is made up of grunts and looks. I felt like a cat among dogs. I see why they sit there and make faces now. When all you are doing is sitting there trying to relax before your 12 hour shift in the hot loading dock.... and boom!!!! This wave of drunken entitled people come and just took over.

I’m writing about this because, These spaces they take up when they enter, is crazy. It’s almost as if the energy gets warped. Like a real ilife glammer spell is casted before your eyes. I had to ask myself. If any person of color were to come in to such a public space and create such a nuisance. Would it have been accepted or even tolerated. As they chanted in camaraderie of fuck the president or even when being vaguer with other statements. Would it have not been challenged? I started to feel unsafe. As a sea of people who are Notoriously known for violence when intoxicated. Started to take over the car I was in. It’s really the first time in my life that I felt like an other. Not for my sexuality like I usually do. But! Because of my skin!

Now! They did not do anything to me. They did not intimidate me. And! They did not have anything to do with me. My point is that in black and brown spaces. We’re inclusive of everyone in the space, "usually". We acknowledge and for the most part tolerate others as much as we can. We see each other. And we in a way create a psychic safe space. You can agree to disagree. But! As a spiritualist and psychic. What I learned is that white people don’t always do that! But! Expect you to provide it. They walk around with is hard energy and take, take, take. I truly believe the mentality they posses is a cancer to this planet. This statement even ones for those who think like them. It’s tiring and annoying at this point in life. And I’m only in my mid 20’s This planet really needs a reshaping. A restart.

I just wanted to go to work. I’m tired. And this is how I fight this fight called the human experience. But! I don't wanna do this anymore. I’d rather live in the woods with the tree spirits and animals where I know at least there intentions are true. Where if there’s a real fight it’s because of survival. True grit! Not a created problem and blame the person who’s living in it,the issue.

Here’s your cuteness of the day.

Meep

(via)

Open or close casket

How much of yourself is supposed to be given in the name of love? What are the rules for living independently, dependently? Can I breath with my own permission? Am I allowed to feel what I want without you!?

At what point, is affection and consideration, gestures willingly done without force?

People say being single is terrible. I say being single is a book that needs to be written. Single people witness couples people go through there ups and downs. Single people believe it or not! Know most of your intimate Intricacies as well your inadequacies too. All in the name of being heard. I listen!

Relationships are conventionally thought to be two people who admires so much that they rather be together than a part. In today’s world it’s almost always how hard can you make me cum. How much can you give me for this pleasure? Well if you don’t know. Im single who’s ready to mingle. But! Many of my close friends are not. One in particular is the Enchantress. A woman so beautiful, she is said to make even the most of (homo) reconsider if he is.

You see, she’s been in a relationship with this man for two going on three years now. A relationship that was budding like the spring equinox were in. Often I’d see her rushing into a cab leaving us behind. While we were in a group setting. Usually I would consider this being rude. But! I too know the bee sting of love. Her man is a doctor who originally from South America. But! Was raised here in the states. My friend has a taste for the luxurious things in life. She chooses to be with a man who has what it takes. Than a man she’s have to build up and be drained from. And No! She has her own. And yes! She does identify, occasionally, as a gold digger.

The way she puts it, is that men. No matter where, on the planet choose to be with a naturally bountiful woman. A woman who can and does understand his emotional, physical and spiritual needs. So why not be with a man who can make this bond, a enjoyable one. Never having to worry about the price on a tag. Or the amount on a dinner bill. To focus on what she’s naturally capable of doing. Giving birth and tending to their children.

I had a hard time, honestly; viewing her perspective at first. Until I first hand had seen what women go through in romantic settings. How they are expected to always give up or tend to more than their partners. This too can be implied to feminine gay men, who are the submitters in there relationship. You see, to me submission is an act of great trust. It is one of the most valuable things any person can give to one another. Now! For the sake of this post. I’ll do my best to stay on topic. However. Straight men or other identifying people can submit to their wives and partners too. It’s a bond. Which is why people kill for love. In the case of the enchantress, I have seen her do this over and over. To the point that I don't understand why she gives him so much privilege. Time after time I see how each time he chips away from her. Little by little there's parts of her light that grows dimmer and dimmer. I wonder How thins will turn out in the end.

At the end of the day all we or me, can do is help her see what's happening. After all, to many people, love is blind.

The desire of the heart is what makes her so vulnerable to his actions. She's not unaware of how things are for her. She see's she feels and she knows. there's been times when I tell her to think about it all. Think about how you would feel in the future with this man. When you wed this is what you wed into. You take on him, his burdens, his mother, even his children and the 1st baby mama! Yes! I said it 1st. that's coming up later ronin much detail.

I have to say, when you choose to bind yourself or anyone else you must think of how hard it is to be them. Love spells are not something to be played with because in fact they are not love spells. they are domination spells and binding spells. Actions that strip or lessen the will of another. That is why you must make sure the person loves you on their own accord. And not just" like" you! She herself has said the root has worked stuplendidly. And yes she said she waited for him to love her before she loved him. Or loves him. But! What spell could be so, If he's already being worked on? Regardless of the spell cast on to this man. Or even for future knowledge. You must be clean of the eyes that lay on you. You must have a clean subject to work on. Paint you canvas with your herbs and candles. But! if the cloth or canvas is stained with that of another. What say you do? What do you do. And that is nothing! Or nothing but! Clean. And this is where I believe the Enchantress trouble's lie. She fell for a canvas that's been soiled and cast upon. And like a woman in love. She did not clean and or wait. She did not see the signs or what had been done. Only what her heart desired, She saw what her spells have brought her. A man of her wishes.

The desires of the Enchantress is that:

A man who can love, even through the dullest of pain, sharpest of blades. That he'd be able to continue to push through and try.

A man who's wealth goes beyond that of his first, second and even third born children. A wealth that is not worried for. Where the children can be sing gleefully and be most gay.

A man who puts his wife's needs before his own and expect the same in return.

But! these are only but a few mutters I was able to hear from the parched lips of my sister witch. For her spells are hers. I myself prefer the scrying of my crystal balls and tarot work. With the watchful eyes of the "MIST" people to do my bidding. I think that spells are last resort. Unless other wise absolutely needed. Manipulation I feel is just as good, if not better. Because The mind and heart wants what it wants. And that can undo or break through, poke through any spell or any binding. And that to me is the case with the enchantresses relationship. No magic or spell. Hell.....not even being bound by spirit can change the internal conflict a man has regarding the love lost from a parent or his first love. Or the hearts true desire. To me this is why men need to learn to own there feelings. I have seen many spells undone though actions and not intention because their hearts desire are else where.

There will be things said and things seen that may make this union be more than just questioned! I must go for now Dear Tumblr. Until then................................ To be continued.

Silly, Billy, Boy

Dear Tumblr Diary #6

After coming home from my first deployment, I was fortunate enough to go back to work on a military duties (Covid missions). For two yearsI was financially okay. I was able to make full payments on any and all my bills. I speak on this because it’s a little rough out here right now. I’m doing things I don’t care to to do. Only because it pays the bills. And the process of finding work is daunting, even draining!I would like to develop other skills out here. However, they take too much of your soul. Just to get in to the course.

Speaking of souls, I found out yesterday on Saint Patrick's that one was called home. Although I enjoy helping people and caring for them. I do not wish to be a HHA anymore. It's convenient but not suitable for me anymore. This would make the second or third death that I had to deal with or at least know about. Back in 2019 I cared for a man who was really sweet. In this line of work. Being a caretaker, you get to know people very personally. He was a man in his late 80's pushing his 90's. He was a souther black man. Although to me he look Indigenous. He had a hydrated caramel complexion. Bald head and a twang in his speak. He was also a man of streets. Well sorta. He was a hustler. In the time that I had known him, he would lend out money to people and shake them down. It was kind of cute to see him do this. Because he was no joke.

Even though he was strong in personality he was kind in other aspects. As I am an obvious homosexual, he was nice to me and like the way I mad my eggs. lol I knew that my culinary background would come in handy when I became a HHA, because I learned that the elderly can't cook or not able to cook for themselves as often as they use too. In training I was informed that there are times the elderly would eat cat food because of the affordability. And because they were on a fixed income. It's kind f scary to think that if you do not set yourself up for success or have children or even maintain relationships. No one will be there for you in the end.

My patient at the time lived in a facility where the elderly live. Albiet this one was much nicer and! It was his apartment. He was still lonely and a by himself. I think that's why he would behave the way he did. hustle, lone money out to people and shake the down when they didn't give it back. I tell you there's some thing cute when they still think they have it!

Besides him being a shaker downer and a sweet guy. He also came with a past like most people do. One time he became upset with me because he knew that I was becoming distant with him. He Eventually asked me why! I had to be honest with him and let him know that I was leaving and not for the reason that he thought. I told him that I was deploying in a couple of months and that I had a lot of training to do. And the the company also took me off the case because they need me to do something that should have been done months prior and penalized me for not doing it. In this time he received another aid and she was not like me at all. Too focused on her phone and not too focused on him. She did not speak, when she came in. Did not clean or cook. He begged me to come back and I could not. Thats when my heart broke.

When I take on a case, I remind myself, this has nothing to do with me and everything about the person I’m caring for. I remind myself, how I would like to be treated. How I would you like for someone to treat grandma. I try to display love them, as you would love my own. With these thoughts and feelings I strive to be the best. Despite how people perceive home health aids.

One of my most rememberable moments with my patient was when he addressed my homosexuality. He stated that he knew. And that he was comfortable, comfortable enough to share on his own experiences. How when he was in jail he would have relations with other men and how in that environment it was normal. He also, in a way stated that he loved me. Which I had to raise an eye brow at. I did not know how to take it. He stated that he was attracted to me and that he could now understand how two men could be involve and have a lasting love. I mean in this situation and in his experience with men and women. I being the care taker. To him I must have been perceived as a women. In his era, the roles I’m in, his social reality would have been a woman's role or job.

With this perspective. My perceived red flags, lowered from a red. Down to an amber orange. Steadying at a canary yellow in to a lime green. I didn't have to worry about, me being turnt around, cooking. All to then being sexually assaulted by him, being groped making breakfast eggs. That I have to say he was always pleasant to be around. It just saddens me that he passed away from covid in may of 2020. I should have reached out and called him.

But! Because I’m no longer with that company there was a clause for us not to reach out to patients when you depart. I didn't want to get sued so I stayed to my self. Only recently did I dare venture out and ask if he was okay and found this information. In a way I have to say that I think I failed him. I think I left him in the hands of people who could have done better for him. These agents only care about there money. I can sit here and say a Cliché line. Such as he’s in a better place. As far as I know his spirit is still in that tiny studio apartment and in happy. What I have learned from this situation is never things you have more time than you do. Because the clock is always clicking. Always moving.If not for you! It’s always clicking for someone else.

When you get the chance, say hello. Tell people you miss them and that they’re on your mind. Tell them, that you even hate them. Just to get the conversation started. But! Try your best to never let a day go by where people who invoke a feeling don’t know how they make you feel.

this is too freaking good

Dawn Mist

Arantza Sestayo

oil on canvas

Pike recently has become obsessed with the nebula light in our livingroom.