the high priestess
My early teenage years were terrible. A miserable battle between undeniable intuition and a daily requirement to attend a school that taught me nothing. Surrounded by humans veiled in fear. Young adults frightened they will never gain an acceptance that actually does not exist. Teachers afraid that the generation before them is aware of their incapability to provide any education of merit.
I never knew my father. I am an only child. My mother’s neglect was accompanied by a self-induced passivity gained through prescription bottles with a rainbow of labels.
When I was sixteen, my life changed completely.
I discovered my first teacher and learned my initial lesson of value, we always find each other. Shortly following the reward of this understanding, I met you in astral.
I knew you would not remember. I was immediately altered by your presence. Your earth-tone eyes. Your silk, raven locks. You appeared far older than you were at the time.
I swore I would find you. The physical world took new shape. For the first time this life, I believed in the possibility of meaning.
In the middle of the night I packed a suitcase. I boarded a train.
I went to New York City.