You've probably stumbled across this website from a scroll tied with colorful ribbon that you found one day as you were walking somewhere. Welcome. Hidden treasuresEvery single one is different. No two messages are the same, because where would the magic(k) be in that? I write each scroll individually and I really do believe that they find the people who they are meant to find.
Before I send one off, I always say a little charm to the universe to make sure it finds you. And then, I place the scroll wherever I'm drawn to. I work a lot off of intuition, in all facets of my Craft (I'm a Pagan witch, if you didn't know). I also use a lot of different ribbons. Sometimes the colors mean something, but usually I just use whatever feels right. Perhaps it will mean something to the person it's for. I just think colors are beautiful, and we need a little more color in the world. A little more brightness. Now here is my message for you. All of you, who found your scrolls and decided to come here. Wrap it back up and hide it somewhere special. Somewhere in nature, maybe, or not. Just so someone else can find it. I can only reach so far by myself but with all of you travelers passing along our message, our family will grow and isn't that what we all are here for? A community? Perhaps you want to keep your note. I get it, I would too. So then, maybe write your own, and put it somewhere far away. This isn't my story, after all. It's ours, together. Yours as much as it is mine. With love and awe, Evangeline
0 Comments
People ask me if I'm okay a lot, usually because of my resting bitch face. Nevertheless, I still wish I could answer honestly. THe hardest questionThis piece is old. Around two years old, I think. A lot has changed since then. I talked to the girl who I wrote about, and we had an amazing, passionate relationship that I wouldn't change for anything. I'm still friends with her, and I've moved on. But this was a hard time in my life, and I think more people need to share their hard times, because it shows how we've all grown. Looking BackLooking back three years ago, I remember. I remember, and I smile because that year was the best year, and it was filled with roses, and I hadn’t yet noticed the thorns. I smile because I remember how enamored I was with the new. I smile because I knew you, and I trusted you, and you trusted me, and it was perfect.
Looking back two years ago, I remember. I remember, but not everything, because that year was the year that the thorns grew longer than my finger, and they punctured my skin, and your skin, and I watched. Helpless. I remember, but not everything, because I tried so hard to forget. Now, the thorns are duller, shorter, more of a visceral pain than a sharp, clear, memory. I can’t remember much, but I still remember you, because you were there, and you were comforting, and I grew to love you in a new way. A way I knew I couldn’t love you. Looking back three months ago, I remember. I remember that you had chosen a new confidant, but I still loved you. I remember when you disappeared, and I was so scared because I knew what the thorns can make a person do, and I couldn’t keep them at bay without you. I remember the dull pain aching in my chest, not just because of the thorns, but because of losing you, in more ways than one. I remember when they told us, and those weeks seemed like years. I remember vividly the feeling of hot, salty tears running down my face as I told myself it was my fault. And it was, and it is. Looking back a little less than a month ago, I remember. I remember and I smile. Not like when I remember three years ago, but a little sadder. I remember my elation when you told me you loved me. I remember your elation when I told you I loved you too. And then I remember that you stopped. Two days of bliss and then silence. You wouldn’t even be near me. You ignored me. Left me alone, confused, wondering. Trapped, because I always wanted you most. Trapped, because I was unsure whether I was allowed to move on. Trapped, because I wanted so desperately to find mutual love, but knew I didn’t deserve love in any form. Trapped, because I failed. Again. I failed to protect you from the thorns, and I failed to keep your fragile love for me intact. And I wondered a lot of things, and I wonder a lot of things still. How could you like me when I don’t even like me? Of course, you only liked me until you pulled me too close, and examined my imperfect features more closely, and you realized I wasn’t whatever you thought I was. I wasn’t smart, or pretty, or funny, or anything I wished I was, or pretended to be. So you pushed me away. I can’t say I blame you. In fact, I congratulate you. You pushed me away after almost three years of mutual trust, and you pushed me so very slowly back into the thorns. I didn’t notice until my skin was bleeding from new gashes, deeper than the last. You pushed me away in a nuanced way in which only you could do, and I cried. Only once, and only for you. I only ever cried for you. After that night of sleepless, restless sadness, I stopped. I decided not to show you I still loved you, because after finally being able to make myself vulnerable, to take off my armor, you forced me to put it back on, and this time I had battle scars. To cover in cool, calm unhappiness, and hide myself from you again. Which I did, and do, because it is almost all I know. It’s safer, anyway, under layer after layer of impenetrable smiles, and nods, and lies. But I do still love you. Despite all my best efforts, you would still be my first choice. All others are nothing compared to you. You give better hugs, better advice, better comfort. You understand me, because the thorns have calloused you too. I understand you, or at least I used to, before you chose another over me, and I wish you only happiness, because, in loving you, I’ve realized I need to let you find who you need to find. But I will always love you in a way I know I can’t, and I will always be sorry. I am posting this not because I want to make anyone sad, or worried. I am posting this because it's real. I wrote this late at night after a really hard day, and I still stand by every word. To those this resonates with: I'm sorry. Whatever you're going through, you don't deserve this. And I believe we will all be okay. A letter to my fatherDear Dad,
I miss you. I mean, I miss the you that smiled at me and sung songs on your guitar with me on your knee. I miss the you I knew before all of this. The you that only came out once in a while. The you that I used to love. I wish I still loved that you. I don’t wish I loved the you that I see now. I don’t wish I loved the you that terrifies me. I don’t wish I loved the you that called a little girl evil. Because that you doesn’t deserve my love. I want to tell you a lot of things. Mostly about how you have no idea how to be a father. About how, because of you, I have never felt good enough. About how, because of you, I will never know if I’m faking my pain. Because of you I will always think I’m not a good person. Your words echo in my head constantly. You’re a selfish, narcissistic spoiled brat. Evil. Mean. Lazy. Heartless. Ungrateful. I really, really hope those things aren’t true, but a part of me will always believe they are. I don’t have a dad anymore. A dad is supposed to give good hugs and tell his daughter she’s beautiful. I don’t need that, I guess, but it would’ve been nice a few years ago. You know, when I felt like a failure; when I hated absolutely everything about myself. Or, no, you wouldn’t know. Because I was too terrified of you to talk to you. I don’t think you get it. I don’t think you understand how much this sucks. There is not a single adult in my life that I trust. That is your fault. You made me scared of you. You taught me that it is an adult’s job to invade a child’s privacy. I think you called it good parenting. You’ve backed me into a corner that I can’t get out of. And it’s not the corner you shoved me into as you told me you wished you could punch me. It’s a different corner. A really, really lonely one. Because I finally know I need help, but if I get it you will take away the one person who makes me okay. You will take away my life. And you’ve told me as much. So what do I do, Dad? What do I do when I’m so overwhelmed by your lectures and your yelling that I just run away. I hide from you whenever you seem even a little upset. Because it’s just too stressful. What do I do? Because it sucks. I guess I don’t do anything. I’ll do exactly what you want. I’ll wait. I’ll shut up. I’ll follow your rules and ignore my pain and hide when I can’t take it and clean your kitchen and react to your guilt tactics exactly how you want me to. I’ll do it all. And then, as soon as I can, I’ll leave. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to get help. I’ll do all of that, and I’ll try to fly under your radar so you don’t stress me out even more. But I will never, ever love you. And that sucks for both of us I suppose but you don’t deserve my love, and if I did love you it would be too much. It would be far too heartbreaking. Because loving the person who hurts you is weak. And I’m not weak. Sure, I used to be. I used to cry in front of you, and give you a reaction. But I am not weak, and I will never be weak again. I’m smarter than that, now. Thanks Dad. You made me strong, I guess. And you’ve made me not trusting which is good if you really think about it. I hope you find this letter one day after I’ve disappeared from your life, and I hope you read it and listen to me like you never did when I was with you. When you had the chance to actually care. Sincerely, Your Daughter. |
Details
TWisted truthsAll of what you read here is true, at least as true as I can remember. ArchivesCategories |