Noun: The world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them.

I am a colossal believer of everything happens for a reason, it is what it is and what is meant to be will be. I am also an advocate of positive thinking and being able to attract what you want. This causes an immense problem when all the stars align to give me what I have been dreaming for, yet I have to refuse.
It is easy to dream up the best case scenario’s in your head but when it comes down to it, we don’t (and can’t) live in a dream. Sometimes this downright blows. Especially when you realize that your life in actuality is nowhere near where you thought it would be at this time. So you spend the day moping around, napping and cuddling on the couch watching TV. Yes, the entire day. At about seven PM you start to realize that maybe this particular configuration was meant to make you wake up and grasp that maybe in order to get what you want you need to push just a little bit further...
I added this photo in case you didn't catch on to the semi melodramatic post.




Noun: The study of the movements and relative positions of celestial bodies interpreted as having an influence on human affairs.

Such a delicate topic; you either believe in it or you don’t. If you dare be the latter I may look at you with disconcerted eyes, you may mistake them for a dirty look, but then again it may just be one.
Therefore, let me come right out and say that I really don’t understand how one cannot believe in astrology. Excuse me while I attempt to play smart, but isn’t astrology scientifically proven? I mean, the stars and stuff, they ARE real. And if you do follow astrology you know that it simply proves itself. I am in no way a fanatic (although I’m sure studying astrology would have been much more successful than studying fashion), but I am a strong advocate of the signs and who is and isn’t compatible.
I have this book. It was a present from my mother for Christmas 2004 (because I got many traits from my mother and she signed and dated the book just like I would); I was twenty. This is probably the age when my interest in astrology peaked, hence the present; and what I highlighted eight years ago is still relevant to this day. ..
“The single Cancer girl looking for love is a strange and subtle creature, who never moves directly or brazenly toward the object of her interest.”
Maybe I should be blaming my singleness on my astrology sign now?!
Okay, back on track. This book has become my go to weapon when I meet someone. It has become a natural instinct when I get home to immediately turn to the appropriate page ‘Cancer woman with ___ man’. I’m sure some people think this is crazy. HOWEVER, I only became obsessed with this ritual after I realized that my book foretold my past relationships. For example, Cancer woman with Aries man (aka: my one and only serious long term relationship); basically the book states that he will come into my life like a fairytale movie. I’m in need and there he is to rescue me and make everything right in my life. This was actually the true story as well. My life was spiraling down and it is safe to say had just crashed when lo and behold this guy appears and insists on picking me up at my house and proceeds to take me to a Halloween party; he also brought my favourite wine. In the end, as stated on page fifty-four, the Aries man does not have enough patience for the Cancer’s emotional energy. Truth. The relationship ended in a yelling, screaming, crying war (me being the one who was going crazy), and he left my house to never come back. ..(Technically we spoke about three months later, but for writing purposes I needed to make it sound more dramatic.)
Let’s look at subject number two: the Gemini man. He was only in my life for about three months, nowhere near a serious relationship, although I did meet his entire family at his house on Christmas day. “The Gemini man has the ability to set off the Cancer woman’s intrigue radar simply by walking into the room.” Reality was that he was a friend of a friend’s and after only the second time of seeing him (from afar) I knew I needed to have him. In the end the Gemini man is incapable of expressing his feelings enough to satisfy the Cancer woman. You can’t just introduce me to your family without a title. I’m not down with that.
Now let’s analyze the most complex relationship of my life to date; one that has never even escalated high enough to be called a relationship, yet has lasted roughly eight years, on and off. The Aquarius man having been born under an Air sign needs to breath and likes his independence all the while creating mayhem leaving a trail of shock waves. Can we be in agreement that this translates into he never wants to settle down? And yet, “Their lovemaking could very well become an extremely titillating pastime.”
I rest my case.



Noun: A temporary stop in action or speech.

If only life could be put on pause.



Noun: An occasion of spending the night away from home, or of having a guest or guests spend the night in one’s home.

I don’t like sleepovers. I have to be extremely comfortable with you in order to partake in a sleepover. And I would much prefer to not sleep at your place. It is less awkward for me to kick you out of my house than it is for me to sneak out of yours.
I think this constitutes as one of my issues and therefore I don’t expect many to be able to relate to this problem. Although, when I speak about it and justify my feelings it seems extremely logical to me and almost makes me believe that everyone should feel the same way. Mornings are awkward. Bright Eyes said it best “Cause what is simple in the moonlight, by the morning never is.” Your eyes and brain suddenly burst open in two point five seconds and you instantly question where you are. You most probably have a slight hangover and didn’t get much sleep. You instantly remember that you either agreed to a sleepover, was too intoxicated to drive home or fell asleep before you could leave (obviously). You panic.
After your initial panic attack you force yourself to calm down so as not to wake the big spoon behind you. You can’t help but be tremendously grateful for whoever opened the window the night before for it has allowed you to not break out in a sweat with all the body heat going on. Sweating would just make everything more awkward and definitely uncomfortable with the skin to skin contact going on.
Side note; I don’t really enjoy cuddling. I mean, five to ten minutes is OK, but anything more is just painful. Usually literally.
Your next thought: I’m not wearing any underwear. A second panic attack comes along. I just want my underwear. I would feel so much better if I was wearing them. Regardless of the t-shirt you are wearing not being yours; you are still wearing a t-shirt, so where are your underwear? You don’t dare move to try and find them because you might wake the one whose hand is now on your bare ass and you really don’t want them to wake up before you can somehow figure out what your face looks like.
You have no choice but to make a move. Your leg is cramping and you need to rub the sleep from your eyes. You make a slight move, pretending to be sleeping. He stirs behind you. Moving his arm around your waist now; you feel like you can’t breathe. You lie there for what seems like forever.  You try to devise a plan to sneak out, but with your belongings strewn all over the floor you undeniably will not be able to make it out alive. By alive I mean without confrontation. Oh and through all of this, you have to pee.
Finally he seems to be waking up. At least he turns the other way. This gives you room to breathe and move just enough to find your underwear. He questions your dressing. You tell him you have a brunch to attend. It’s actually not a lie. You find your jeans and rush them on. You are horrified at your reflection in the mirror when you finally get up. You beg him to find you an elastic for your hair; but why would he have such a thing? You hurry out; he says you don’t have to leave. As you leave the building you can’t help but cringe: there is no denying a walk of shame when you still have on last night’s red lipstick. 



Verb: Affect with a bad or undesirable quality: “his administration was tainted by scandal” 

I find a kiss to be more intimate than sex.
Does that make me weird? Kisses are passion embodied. You don’t kiss someone unless you care for them, or crave them. A kiss is something special. Sex is something that can be special but so often is treated as routine. Anyone can have sex. But not everyone can kiss. It infuses in it some kind of magic, the transferring of souls, the bond of love and passion. A kiss is worth more than a blowjob. A kiss is the gateway, an introduction to the most intimate. Without a kiss the intimate becomes the tawdry. Without a kiss it is nothing but skin and saliva and desperate moaning. Without a kiss there can be no true pleasure, the soul can’t be satisfied without a kiss. Your body is happy but your soul is sick. An agoraphobic by accident. No brush of the lips to say hello, no passionate fire igniting within it’s heart. Here we are again at the center of the thing and we can’t even figure out which way is up. Without a kiss, sex is sepia tone. With a kiss, sex is technicolor. It hurts the screen when it moves from side to side. Without a kiss you are Kansas. With a kiss you are Dorothy in a twister, yellow. Bright.
A kiss is more intimate than sex. Hands down.

Agreed. For this reason, I may have forgotten how to kiss. It's been that long. But, it's like riding a bike, right?

Post Script: I read the above writing quite some time ago, saved it and cannot seem to find the source now. I did not write this, although I agree with it one hundred and ten percent...