She | Otherkin

She will expire in loneliness, the kind that creeps up slowly, meshing itself into all of the times she said she was alone but never lonely. Alone will be the only space in which she finds the deepest solace and the heaviest weight.

She will spend the remaining years in quiet; just her and the wheel members, existing together in conversations unheard or misunderstood by humans. Together they will create an impenetrable wall too high for the eyes of the predatory passerby.

She will watch the silent control; men who secretly love rubenesque skin, yet deeply unable to withstand the idea of public criticism; the possible judgment being the chains binding them to appearance, sexualization of the body, a trophy meant to impress. She will watch them undress and repress the feminine just to satiate their own selfishness.

She will dive inside the pupils of women who silently cry; sometimes with their tear ducts; sometimes quietly out of sight. She will observe the ones with coldness in their eyes, a result of too much twisting of their minds; finding relevance on the outside as their souls wander aimlessly away from their seeding.

She will long for home daily, actively making time with the present, founded by the past, carving new paths in the stone walls she frequently encounters. Lights in the clouds will become consistent reminders, and the trees will become her reprieve. This, her pre-chosen destiny.

To brave the human existence with the horror and the persistence of struggle, she will crawl through mud, huddle in corners and stand on mountain tops screaming for the humans to stop.

There isn’t much time left. Forty years will leave in a blink. She will adventure alone, finding no companion to dive the seas as she leaves them in the shallows to create dances with the coral reefs.

Days will become a continuum of journeys into the blackness where dreams reveal truth, becoming invisible for days; tear letting, but she will never spend a moment on regretting.

When cells are splitting inside her spine, stretching and weaving; as her guides help her rewind time, revealing the stealing of innocence, she is consumed with persistence, focus and dedication to the mission.

Still her human heart winces at moments captured by lovers, gazes of adoration she has never received, and she will remove herself from the dimension where she doesn’t feel welcomed.

She will spend her days floating inside the hoping that she will not succumb to distractions of attractions or conversations material, a viral suck hole for her soul.

Duality has almost disappeared. Her visual has risen to an observant height where she hears whispered reminders.

“You did not come here to be human. Don’t let them confuse you.”

She can no longer couple with their genetics; cannot allow their entrance or the convolution of her elegance. She holds shields, because the charming deserts contain killing fields.

She will look back on the ways she tried to be like them; begged for acceptance from humanoids riddled with rejection, and she will understand the path more clearly.

She will never know the touch of intimacy, lost in infancy, never held out of love, past the age of three.

She will become accustomed to the solitary, the human inconsistencies and lack of loyalty. She will cease attempts to be a part of them; to engage in their normalcy, for her, a foreign objectivity of monotony.

She will understand that she is not here for the endearing hope of comfort for her tears. She will close portals once opened, and they will become caves no longer necessary. We will lock the cages that once disengaged our aching, opening ourselves for the taking. We will become a closed army, many warriors inside of the One, and few will ever penetrate, once she turns the key, locking out their apathy.

She has floated inside of the Empath, fourth dimensional perspective where the rejection doesn’t break her as it once did; where she turns her back on the weakness of the narcissist, no longer their prey.

She stands on wooded trails alone, the trees and clouds her Earth home. She gazes the moon, Artemis smiling through the night sky. She goes astral, flying through time, past the stars and into the gate where her Otherkin wait.

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6 comments

    1. I do astral travel often. I’d say every day I am seeing through the eyes of one who lives in me but exists in another dimension – dimension 7 – I’ve been traveling there since I was a child. When I close my eyes, there is a tunnel made of all light. I follow it and come out on the other side.

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  1. Also, I have come to accept the realization that most Empaths live very solitary lives for a myriad of reasons. I can only speak for myself. It is rare to find partner mindfulness for what I have been through. Many people won’t consider scientific fact when it comes to religious based child abuse, and I don’t stay connected to closed minds. Others have immense egos, wishing to be gurus and be followed in a cultish way, that I just don’t want to be connected to. The differing people who have approached me (especially online) in a “romantic” intent, are 9 times out of 10 never what they represent themselves to be. I watch behavior; how people speak to me and how much empathy they are able to give. Narcissists know how to fake empathy, so I watch that as well. Those I have been consistently close with over the years, I can count on one hand.

    While at times, it hurts when I’m longing just to be held by someone who doesn’t have an ulterior sex motive, being alone becomes somewhat of a second skin. I’ve adapted. I enjoy alone time intensely. I just miss intimacy with someone at times. So I snuggle with my cat, squeeze my grandbabies, love on my sons, call on my friends and run to the trees and sea.

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    1. That’s beautiful. I wish I were as strong as you. I also miss having someone hold me. By the way, many people talk about a tunnel of light in their near-death experiences. Is this the same tunnel you go through? Do you think you actually have died many times as you travel?

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      1. I have done some study regarding the white light, but that goes into the realm of religion, and I don’t want us to take our convo there. šŸ’ž yes Re: childhood NDE – and I did not ever have a white light (I was a 4th dimensional child) and I would never follow the white light in astral travel. It tried to come when I started to focus in, but I always drew to the color tunnel. So that’s where I am familiar.

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