The rest of U/us say goodbye sometimes; go inside to hide, and they’ve let Me rise. She used to enjoy My presence. This time it’s mere necessity.
I am the Keeper of many secrets, information she is seeking. When the going gets tough, I come. I accept the temporary situation, but soon, it will be time to enter the next phase.
There are no tears here. I do not cry. I keep My eyes sharply observing the other side. Any attempt at manipulation is thwarted by My intervention.
She sat in the car today. We talked telepathic. We came to an agreement. I’m not about weeping and whining. I do. That’s what I do. I move. I shake. I make sure things happen for U/us.
You’re reading Me baffled. Can you hear My laughter? The stories I could tell you about humanly designed hell, and why W/we are poetic and cryptic. Only, you haven’t earned it.
She wrote it all down, and you clowns can’t even take the time to try and understand the why. Now you cry because she’s saying goodbye? You’re an adult child, reverting to a teenager whenever you feel anger; whenever shit doesn’t go your way.
I don’t do mindfulness. I do protection. I am a mind mercenary. I do what must be done. So, they sleep while I take it forward. Oh, the masks you dare to wear as if I can’t clearly see what hides under there.
Now it begins.