before I ran upstairs, I went to my kitchen to grab my water bottle and my straw. I wouldn’t want either but they would be seen as a source of comfort to my eyes in some cases. it is already so harsh; the shifting walls and brightening of any room when you’re on it. I need these comforts. the stairs are steep and they were steep climbing them especially with the bend to my back. I wasn’t scared of the stairs, although truly, one could die if they fell the wrong way down them. I didn’t think about this too much honestly. my room felt safe. no one is ever in there but me and the cats. I considered closing the door to lock them out briefly only because their obsession with being close to me can feel smothering, which is why I keep announcing to them that I am on drugs. to remind them. such a volatile state but I also wanted them around, and on guard. they had a knack for reading me and knew when I was too far out. years of practice. I knew they’d follow me immediately and better for it. they were familiar and moving, a constant distraction if I needed one. watching cats is a pleasure in itself. I wanted my journal that I had been reading the night before about astrological placements. I brought that upstairs.. I wanted the decks too. deferentially, I asked if I was able to remove the placement of the cards on my altar to use them. it felt reverent. I feel more comfortable in devotion. I am a fanatic.
I placed them on the bed and sat down. I also had a mini composition book and a pen. the composition book only had a couple notes in it to begin with. it was an emergency notebook. in an emergency, or a flush of energy, if I feel the need to write something I can reach over and grab it. the pages were all falling out but I kept it in some order. I liked things neat even in deshevelment. I focused on keeping the pages together as I swirled in place. what am I looking for? began to read about the sun and its meaning for a person: the ego, the way, and the second house of possessions. and how they conjunct in natal and synastry. possessive. sometimes I see things I’ve written in different places, breezing by become a saint. so much pressure. so much pressure in my head. flipping the pages but my handwriting is scrawl and perfectly coded so only I can read it in my most lucid state and requiring patience. to read my letters requires patience. things would lose meaning and be regained later. that’s synthesis and letting go of what you read. I used to have a photographic memory.I found the pages and flipped back and forth between two of them not certain what I was looking at or if I was truly looking at anything of substance. this was the house of self esteem. there is a theme here of scarcity. my room I mean. it’s full of things and outfits and art. its also a square altar. it’s also full of money, these walls. I keep thinking. I want less of what I own. I’m not really reading but scanning my lines to see what pops. my handwriting is slanted and shorthand, like a doctors. my signature is merely a lowercase and cursive s but drawn big sometimes.
“the sun is active not reactive.” I put my pen back down. was I writing? i’m incapable of holding any thoughts which forces me to breathe deeply. it feels nice to do it and my spine is pulsing and I can sense more pressure coming. don’t look at anything. I lay on my back for a second. it is impossible not to be stimulated in this world. I feel a buzz in my apartment all the time and noise. what always sticks out about the second house is the possession of friends. the love of buying gifts. the generosity that comes with owning someone and with a will to succeed in some way that forces you to lie down on your orange comforter and plot the burning of your house. I began to imagine setting my house on fire. I was staring at my dresser, at the framed picture of the fox and a little ways past that to a mirror that felt warmer. my brother’s ashes which didn’t cause any alarm or overwhelming grief so much as the polaroid of my dad next to a backdrop of a dark woods so the two blended. I looked back up and sat back up. opening the notebook again. it’s hard to focus on anything. it’s best to comfort yourself too. “tail wraps inward for Virgo, outward for Scorpio.” I’m on my south node journey. . I’m simply observing the process of what I noted and what I’m noting now as I’m reifying my old words into the alchemy. I am looking around my room a lot. not in alarm, it is safe here. no one has been in this room but a couple people and no one has ever slept in this bed with me, or fucked me. not in this room on this mattress.that thought is soothing.