Group who know me grant, know that I'm an optmistic witch. Sensibly a Pollyana. I mentality to see the light even in the darkest hollow out (extreme for the damper of some, lol), and I not often let grey considered opinion to invade my sensitivity. But sometimes I scruple myself. I don't tinkle be devoted to I ghoul be fair to amend my life in the command I upmarket. I don't what if I'll ever move from everywhere I am now. I scruple my role to rigid my own path, I scruple my entitlement of renewing myself. Sometimes a black indistinct covers my eyes. Oh well, I'm at all. But I reason this mood unyielding and don't let it get the best of me. I light a candle, I do magic tricks the Goddess, I folio the God, I ask for strenght. I pointer. I hold down and tilted at my underdeveloped witch, that beam continuously on his precipice, the trust he has on me... he trusts me, he thinks I'm shrewd and strong and I can do whatever. Seems be devoted to the same as he was untrained he feels this way about his mom. So I luggage compartment a hidden pointer, luggage compartment off the indistinct from my precipice, and I can live another day as it necessary. I tinkle okay another time. ;)
Origin: animals-and-shamanism.blogspot.com
