Do no harm, but take no shit. Always try to view other’s with compassion, walk in their shoes. Still, stand up for yourself if people take your kindness for weakness. Are you someone who tries to comprehend, or do you have tunnel vision and only see your point of view?
“You’re that conspiracy theorist that nobody believes, but you’re always right.”-Rakim
Demons, ghosts, the soul within your flesh chamber you name it I see it, or have seen it.
As I grow older all these ancient proverbs ring truer than true. The eyes really are the windows to the soul. At first it started off as clairsentience, the ability to feel clearly. Energies, other peoples emotions, beguiling objects; walking down the street I could look at the 15th floor of a building and know it was haunted. That whatever resided in there was looking down at me, sensing my acknowledgment. Male, female, century, attire all things I could pick up. I’d never seen anything when I was younger, with the exception of my grandmother’s house at nine.
Red numbers beamed from the small radio alarm clock alerting me that it was precisely 2:38am. How bizarre, I never wake up from deep sleeps, was my first thought. The air was stiff and eerie, all the lights out, creating different hues of darkness, the only way objects stood out in the landscape. Separating our room from the living room, where my grandmother slept on her pull out couch, leaving the bedroom to us, were these wooden venetian doors. They were kept open so the industrial fan could rotate air between us. There it was. At first I thought I was seeing things. But this figure was shorter than the fan and it’s eyes beamed red like the clock. He was wearing a hat, with a shirt the shape of a Hawaiian button down, it had shorts on and a grin that was somehow contained and exceeded the oval shape of his face. But it was the arms. Longer than it’s body, the arms curled up behind him swinging back and forth, never touching the floor. This being was not human. Scared to death I nudge my sister Whitney and cousin Breon silently awake, was the apparition real? None of us said a word, but we all saw it, we stared at it as it stared at us grinning insidiously. We were entranced for a good ten minutes. Afraid it would come closer, we wrapped the blankets over our heads, leaving only space for our noses to peek out. I found out that this demon was called the Short Man, often accompanied by the Tall Man. Shadow people. Years later my sister described them both, as she saw the Tall man too that night.
Twenty five was a turning point, my abilities magnified and I couldn’t control them. I started to see things, I mean really, really see them. I was terrified living in a haunted apartment in west Harlem, 3am on the dot and the whole place would come alive. I found myself unable to move with an animal growling in my ear, I’ve waken up with three doctor like figures looking down at me as if they were operating, I’ve heard my name called down the hallway. One day I told my roommates and they’d experienced some of the same things too. However no one saw anything like me. This is why I went to the psychic to know what I was. My estranged father is Haitian and openly practices voodoo. These capabilities are in my blood. The psychic taught me how to meditate, creating a barrier between myself and unwanted entities.
It bogles my mind that humans are myopic minded to believe we are the only things that inhabit this universe. Animals can pick up ranges of sensory information unbeknownst to us, a dog whistles frequency exceeds our scope. A born seer, I never had a choice, this gift to see souls, to pass spirits along to the other side (which I’ve done for friends and those who come to me), premonitions…it was passed down to me. So when I warn others about someone’s true intentions, or a nefarious being I only need say it once. I have a proven record. Heed my advice, or learn the hard way, either way it comes to pass. Photo: Elle Gramm
I can’t stress enough that to be human is to be flawed and imperfect. If we were perfect we would be robots. Stop trying to be everybody else, be you, the sperm and egg that made it. You can always be a better version of yourself and evolve. I will tell you the older you get the less your care about what others think. What do you hate about yourself physically? Why?
Legit this child might be speaking the truth. The sentiment is felt deeply. Raise your hand if you concur? Via: Aquarius Mood
True beauty lies in the soul, the way in which you contribute to this planet, and the way you treat others, especially when they can do nothing for you. When was the last time you volunteered? When was the last time you helped someone knowing you would get nothing in return? When was the last time you shared? What was it?
Genc Jakupi always looked out for me, which made the target on my back bigger when he was away. A playboy, or a womanizer, the semantics are up to you. He’s had his fair share of staff members, models, socialites, actresses…So when he treated me special, green-eyed monsters awakened en mass. Women would flock to the restaurant to see me, the girl that suddenly gave him a heart. This was a man who was feared, admired and had a new lady on his arm every single night. Charismatic, intelligent and fun, they literally threw themselves at him. Young, rich and handsome with a full head of hair, it was a no brainer for ovaries.
Eyes locked. “Do not have sex with that hot neighbor.” I told myself, having no idea he was an owner. I found him sitting in one of the booths before open the next day, I had half a mind to tell him service didn’t start until six. For some reason I bowed as a hello, then left him to stare out the window broodingly as it was in his nature to do. Always donning that long black peacoat like Christian Slater in The Heathers.
Valentine’s Day at The Box, he asked me if I was going. I said no. A rule of thumb, don’t eat where you shit, is one I take to heart. Roommates, coworkers, bosses and clients are a big hell no. It gets too convoluted. I try to avoid drama as much as possible, even though my life is a soap opera continuum, says Melinda. The irony. For some reason I trusted him, which was unnerving. How could you trust someone you just met? Everything about him freaked me out, my physical reaction to his physical presence roamed untamed. Butterflies flew from unknown fields in my stomach, as though frightened to flight. My heart bashed my ribcage trying to abandon my chest. Somewhere along the way I believed him to be my twin flame, I sought out the equal and opposite piece of my soul desperately.
Everyone else had, let’s say a different view of him. When he entered a room terror permeated. No one wanted to get on his bad side, a side I’d never seen. He was revered and feared. Apparently the leader of the you’re fired squad. People who would be complete assholes to me would do a 180. Treating me like the queen of fucking everything. I felt safe when he was around.
His parents were my first friends at a hostile work environment (I didn’t know they were his parents then). Agron humored me when I talked to him about karmic cycles, planetary alignment and retrogrades. Turns out he didn’t know a lick of english beyond the basics. We developed our own understanding, able to communicate our way. Those are the most beautiful types of languages. Returning from trips I would hug him, he was missed. Feride his gorgeous, over protective mother was my favorite. She was out for a good time. When I appeared topless in a red sheath on New Year’s Eve, she gasped “You look beautiful.” I was so relieved, my own mother would admonish me for this dress even when wearing a bra. That night I stopped working and danced the night away with her. I should have been fired when I went to sleep in the front booth, but I wasn’t because of Genc.
Jordan Barrett made me feel so disloyal. I wanted to be around him all the time, usually guys try to tame me, but Jordan would let me run wild. I dreamed of him, craved him, he was infectious. How could I turn my back on someone who defended me on numerous occasions? Who took care of me in their own way? I was the only employee to receive paid vacation. But at this point Genc moved to Europe, he wasn’t there, what was I waiting for? We never had a conversation, I never knew what he was up to. Still I waited, hoping not in vain.
There was only one member of his family that irked my soul. No matter how many olive branches I extended, attending his birthdays, trying to be nice to him, he snapped the twigs. Despite popular belief Taurus and Pisces in my experience (from my sister on) have a horrible dynamic. We just don’t mesh. Making it messier was when I blacked out and led him on. Genc was dating Romanian actress Madalina Ghenea, one of the women who came to see me. His brother was wearing his shirt, a long sleeved blue with white polka dots thermal type top. One I always affiliate with Genc from photos. In a drunken stupor Lupe the busser told me I was with his brother and tried to make out with the blonde lady, who turned out to be Dua Lipa’s mother. Ashamed I swore off the bottle for thirty days.
It all ended in a cataclysmic, inevitable shit show. After I left with my karmic justice. He started to keep an eye on me in ways that were invasive. At first I excused his behavior, this was a man who walked over dead bodies in a war torn country, but soon it got dark. The methods in which he kept tabs were toxic and took a toll on my mental well being. So finally after a breakdown I confronted him, calling him out, in hopes that he would realize this isn’t the old country, I am not your property. I’m also not going to throw myself at anyone, women need to remember they should be coming to you. This world has been constructed in favor of the patriarchy, putting women down as inferior, conditioning us to hate ourselves and each other. That’s not my vibe, which infuriates powerful men.
Without Genc I wouldn’t love myself, so I don’t want to paint it one way. This was one of the most crucial relationships of my life. I started taking care of myself, he made life worth living. Still when the milk spoils you have to throw it out (https://sainttwenty.com/2019/08/15/learn-to-let-go/). Via: Guns X Bibles Mag
Allow the phases of you to come and go. You can’t be full all the time, either way you’re beautiful.
Fear is vital for our survival, tells you when to leave a bad situation keeping you alive. So is the ego, it protects you from getting hurt by others, filtering out the cruel. The world is filled with so much sensory information, that these two defense mechanisms become our constant armor and that’s no way to live. Check yourself, are you living in extremes of fear and ego? Where does it stem from? Via: Word Rover
I know it’s not cool to want karma to get those that deserve it, but damn it’s hard when people are blatant ass munches and continually get away with it. I knew this person and although she appeared to be a positive cheerleader, she was also a pathological liar and narcissist. I should’ve seen it coming and I think in a way I did.
I met her trying to secure the next chapter in my professional career. She presented herself as the owner of a new salon in town. Even the name of it was born from her struggles. Her story was inspiring and nothing shy of amazing. A multi-cancer survivor, mother of three and grandmother. Did I mention we’re the same age? Wow!! If this lady could go through so much and be this strong and hopeful and positive, why was I so scared to go from employee to self-employed? What was MY hang up? If this broad can do all of this, I can definitely do a portion of it. I got the position (!), became self-employed and started on my current journey.
As time went on I noticed her detaching, becoming less available to the staff. She had built this store with 13 stylist aside from myself. I viewed her differently than the others, she wasn’t my boss, just the landlord. Believing we forged a friendship I would ask her what’s wrong, but received no response. She up and ghosted me, leaving me to ponder what I’d done to upset her. We went on family trips together!
Year two I started to question her motives, after uncovering a lot of misinformation. For instance she was never the owner and the “silent investor” wasn’t so silent. I tried to look over discrepancies, but boy there were a lot. Two weeks after opening a new space the rent increased! Under the guise of using a new software program to teach me how to add appointments, bitch hijacked my account, changing the password, stealing clients, addresses and color formulations I’ve spent ten years building!The real kicker, she was never a licensed stylist! She never even graduated cosmetology school!!!! She’s all over social media taking pictures asking people if she should “get back into doing hair.”
The most frustrating part is that she’s constantly around town working her Gypsy ways, acquiring things from people under the impression she had their best interest at heart. But it’s a game show.
When you stop having something she wants, you’re disposed of. Why do I keep getting involved with shady ass punks? Photo: Numerologistcom
JQ! It’s Sydney. This could literally not have come at a better time… I just needed someone to tell me to write down my feelings and now you have. You don’t have to use this by any means. It’s not that coherent. But it was helpful in ways you can’t even imagine.
I broke up with my boyfriend today. He was sweet, loving, and compassionate. He was a feminist, a gardener, a chef, and a lover. Every woman’s dream. My dream. But he wasn’t driven. Or compassionate. Or motivated.
I broke up with him because he wasn’t fully committed to living in the City and getting a job here. He wasn’t making steps toward a concrete life away from his family upstate. I paid for everything. I gave him a soft place to land on when he came here. I integrated him into social settings he would otherwise avoid.
It’s been 5 hours (literally). Every time I think about it I want to cry. Or yell at myself. Is it worth it to let someone go that was loving and made me feel safe? Am I being too hard on him? Are my expectations too high? Am I just too young? Is this right or is it not? Is it not right right now?
But how we met was not without his own faults — relegating his family to give me his number rather than approaching me himself. It was written on the wall from the beginning. I held onto it for so long, but now every time I think about it I can only see the part where he cowers at his own goals. I miss him. I’ll miss having that person to talk to every night when I’m bored or drunk or just plain dumb in love with his goofy face and curly hair. He was funny. Always. He made me see the world with humor and skepticism. I’ll think of him every time I see a toad; he loved them.
I’m angry because I see so much potential in him to be the best at what he does, but truthfully, I want that for him more than he wants it for himself. And in a way I’m angry at myself. I fell in love with him. And it happened faster than I care to admit. The thought of making a mistake has crossed my mind about every 15 minutes at this point. I hope I’m doing the right thing. Photo: Ilenia Tesoro