When the Weight Feels Too Heavy

The past three days have felt like an uphill battle with no summit in sight. Medically overwhelmed, emotionally drained, and somehow, despite all of it, still longing for the one person I wish would just see me—really see me.

Pain has a way of making the world smaller. It shrinks down to the ache in my ribs, the sharp reminders that my body isn't cooperating, the exhaustion that makes even breathing feel like work. And in that small world, the one thing that would make it feel a little less suffocating is knowing that someone notices—not just the struggle, but me.

The person behind it.

Instead, I find myself drowning in a cycle of discomfort and silence, trying to push through because what else is there to do?

Complaining feels pointless.
Explaining feels exhausting.

So, I sit with it, hoping that maybe—just maybe—the right person will see past the "I'm fine" and hear what I'm not saying.

There’s something uniquely painful about feeling invisible to the one person you want to see you. Not just in a passing, surface-level way, but in the way that says, I know you. I see the way you’re hurting. I’m here.

I don’t need solutions. I don’t need someone to fix what can't be fixed. I just need presence. A moment of acknowledgment. A reminder that I’m not carrying all of this alone. But instead, I feel like I’m screaming into a void that refuses to echo back.

Maybe tomorrow will feel lighter. Maybe the pain will ease, my body will feel less like a battleground, and the weight of being unseen won’t press so hard against my chest. But today? Today, I just need to admit that it’s heavy. And that’s okay.

If you’ve ever felt this way—if you’re feeling this way now—I see you. And I hope, even if just for a moment, you feel a little less alone.

From your friendly Omega coded,
Phyre

💙

The Old Shop...

The old shop smelled of gas and oil. The light above their heads cast shifting shadows along the walls, making them move and float like tiny dancers. Sitting on an old milk crate, he worked, tuning up the motorcycle. The steady flow of music from the MP3 player on the bench filled the space. Focused on his task, he didn't notice the extra shadow among the others—until she cleared her throat to get his attention.

His eyes swept over her, taking in everything—from her liquid brown eyes to the white T-shirt hugging her large breasts, down the curves of her full body and round ass. A beer bottle rested on her thigh, fingers wrapped around its neck. She bit her bottom lip as she looked him over—the parts scattered on the ground, the shop’s disarray, and his rugged appearance.

"Are you gonna be done soon?" she asked, brows knitting together.

They had fought earlier in the day. What had seemed important then now felt stupid and petty. The argument had sent him out to the shop and her into the bedroom—doors slamming, words muttered under their breath. But a few hours later, she missed him.

As she walked toward him, the sway in her hips was deliberate. Holding the beer out like a peace offering, she extended it to him. He took the bottle, bringing it to his lips for a long, slow drink. Moving behind him, she wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing her ample breasts into his back before kissing the side of his face. She saw the subtle curl of his lip, and in that moment, she knew she was forgiven.

Her breath, hot against his cheek, sent shivers down his spine. Her lips and teeth found his earlobe, tugging at it gently.

She whispered into his ear, "I wanna go for a ride."

His hands rested on his thighs before he held them up in mock surrender, shaking his head as he looked back at her.

"She won’t be back together for a bit, babe."

"I know," she said, stepping between him and the bike, leaning back against the seat.

Gripping the hem of her T-shirt, she pulled it up over her head, pushing into him so he had to lean back, her body pressing closer. The lacy bra was right in his face. His hands—dark and dirty—rose to her skin, pressing against alabaster flesh and sheer lace. The contrast was striking. He cupped her breasts, their weight filling his palms, squeezing firmly as he heard her breath hitch.

Standing up, he pressed into her, his hands trailing over her pale skin as his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss. His fingers found her face, holding her as their mouths met, dizzying in intensity. Her hands worked at his jeans—pushing, pulling, tugging—while her soft fingers explored his rigid heat beneath.

Kissing. Biting. Lips and tongues tangled.

She pressed back into the bike, the cold metal and leather sending a thrill through her. His hands found the waist of her pants, tugging them down over her hips, gripping her ass as he pulled her against him. Her arms curled around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, tugging, pulling. He ground against her softness, his grip tightening.

A moan escaped her lips. Nails raked across his skin. Their breaths came fast and harsh.

She shifted, straddling the bike backward, the chill of the seat sending a shiver through her spine. Biting her lip, she patted the leather, coaxing him closer. Tugging on his shirt, she pulled him in as he straddled the bike, planting both feet on the ground. She slid down the wet heat of her pressing against his hard cock.

He could feel the heat of her—his willing little kitten. He ran the head of his cock along the slick folds of her slick heat, feeling her body react, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. The gas cap dug into her chest as he rolled his hips, grinding her down into him.

Her hands reached up, tugging her bra down to expose her breasts, her nipples stiffening in the cool air. His hands followed, sliding up to meet hers. Glancing down through her lashes, she watched him, mesmerized by the sight of his strong hands on her skin.

She moved against him, grinding down, her body trembling as he took control.

 

A Line in the Digital Sea

I sit here and cast myself into the vastness of the internet, an endless ocean of voices, of thoughts, of people trying to be seen. I throw out my line—a word, a thought, a piece of myself—and I wait.

I wait to be noticed.

I wait to be chosen.

I wait for someone to look at me, really look, and say, There you are. I see you.

Because isn’t that what we all want? To be witnessed? To know that in this sea of scrolling, clicking, and consuming, someone has paused on you, on your existence, and thought—yes, this one matters.

But the ocean doesn’t stop moving. The tide doesn’t stop pulling. And more often than not, I am just another ripple lost in the current.

It hurts—God, it hurts—to put yourself out there, to hope that this time, maybe this time, the net will catch, only to realize you’re still just another face in a crowd that never turns to look.

And I know. I know that I am supposed to be okay with being alone. That the absence of someone else doesn’t mean I am less. That I should find comfort in my own presence, should learn to love the quiet instead of fearing it.

But some nights, some moments, I still throw my line into the dark, hoping.

And I wonder if maybe, somewhere out there, someone is casting theirs, too.

Hexing!

 What is a Hex?!

What Is a Hex?

A hex is a crossing—it's a binding of someone's energy, intertwining it with your own. It's a clash of wills, pinning their power to yours, and it demands a significant amount of energy. Because of this, you need to be absolutely sure of what you're getting into. When you hex someone, you should always have a clear goal in mind—a purpose that justifies the energy you’re about to expend.

---

Why Should You Hex Someone?

Which brings us to the real question—why? Why should you hex someone?

Hexing should never be done on a whim. It’s not about petty revenge or lashing out in anger. A hex should serve a purpose—to teach a lesson, promote growth, or break a destructive habit. The energy of your hex should be tied to their bad behavior and their personal evolution.

Think of it like this:

• If they change, the hex loosens.
• If they backslide, the hex tightens.

A well-crafted hex isn’t just punishment—it’s a force of correction, ensuring that the person either grows or continues to struggle under the weight of their own actions.

---

When Should You Hex Someone? (Timing Matters!)

Before you even think about casting a hex, there are a few non-negotiable steps:

RESEARCH, RESEARCH, RESEARCH!
You don’t know who or what is backing the person you're hexing. They might have strong spiritual protection, ancestral support, or divine intervention already in place. If that’s the case, your hex could backfire or simply fizzle out.

So before taking action:

• Consult your own spirit team—your ancestors, your gods, your guides.
• Approach with respect and truth.
• Gather information.

You may find that the person is already facing karmic consequences without your interference. Or you may discover that they’re shielded, meaning you’ll need to strategically strengthen your hex game.

---

When Should You Hex Someone? (Personal Discernment!)

Now, let’s talk about when you should actually do it.

I can’t answer that for you—only your own discernment can. But understand this:

✨ When you hex someone, you are using YOUR OWN energy. ✨

It is draining. It is a commitment. And it requires protection.

You need to be absolutely sure that this is the right path before moving forward. Otherwise, you could end up exhausting yourself for nothing—or worse, setting unintended consequences into motion.

---

How to Hex?

I can go over that—but only in private. 🔮

Rite of the Sunborn Grove

Rite of the Sunborn Grove

(A Druidic Incantation of Light and Liberation)

Incantation:
"Harken, O children of root and star, to the wisdom woven in earth and sky. Forgotten powers awaken, as night and dawn wage their eternal dance. Dark ones walk the shadowed glades, binding souls in unseen chains. Beware their tendrils, creeping through the mind—cast them out, break their hold. Seek the Light of the Verdant Sun."

"Many deceive, but truth shines in those who strive. The Circle of the Sunward Ones stands against the dusk, freeing the lost, guiding the way. They are the silent sentinels, unseen hands lifting the weary from the abyss. Their power flows from Sol’s eternal flame, the wellspring of life. Fear not, for the path is before thee. I grant thee knowledge to unbind the dark fetters."

"When the night’s grasp tightens, invoke the Wave of the Sunborn. Let shadow find no refuge within thee. Seek the sacred grove or a place where roots whisper old truths. Stand within the circle of oak and ash, raise thy hands to the firmament, let thy breath become the wind, let thy heartbeat join the pulse of the land."

"Close thine eyes and draw the Light within. Call forth the Spirit of the Golden Bough, invoke the Seven Lords of the Celestial Canopy by name: THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE; UNTANAS, QUERTAS, CHIETAL, GOYANA, HUERTAL, SEMVETA, ARDAL. By their names, by their radiance, be unbound!"

"Let the bonds of shadow shatter like brittle leaves. Let the chains of night fall away as frost before dawn. Walk the path of the Ever-Burning Grove. Be as the Light, be as the Sun, be as Life itself."

Effect:

• Cleanses the mind and spirit of dark influences.
• Breaks magical or spiritual bonds that tether the soul to corruption.
• Fills the caster with radiant energy, empowering them against shadowy forces.
• Allows brief communion with the unseen guardians of the Sun’s path.

Component Requirements:
🌿 A sacred space of nature (grove, stone circle, or untouched wild)
🔥 A source of light (sun, flame, or glowing crystal)
🌬️ A moment of deep breath, aligning with the land’s pulse

May the Light and Life of the Sunward Path guide thee, druid. 🌞🌿✨

When you know you know...

 Most people get to an age where they might know what's going to kill them, maybe they don't maybe they walk through life with the blissfully unaware.

I know.. and sometimes I gleefully tap my hourglass just to see if the sands will move a little faster, is this a suicide note, of sorts, the long and winding type. The kind that maybe someone will see at some point but likely not at all because no one really reads my blog so it's mostly just a place where I put my empty thoughts.

My heart hurts for a world and a place that I will no longer be a part of but also feel like I am not a part of, I'm tired of being so lonely.

So, tap, tap, tap, little hourglass...

Applause in Disguise

Applause in Disguise

They say not everyone will clap when you succeed. Some people, bless their hearts, will do the equivalent of clapping with their hands in their pockets. You know the type—they throw out comments that sound like compliments if you squint hard enough but carry just enough spice to make you go, "Wait, was that shade?"

But here’s the thing: even a backhanded comment is still applause in disguise. It means they noticed you. It means you’re doing something that stirs a reaction. And isn’t that the point? To leave a mark, to make waves, even if someone else insists on being a grumpy little raft in your ocean of awesome.

I’ve decided to stop wasting energy trying to convert the lukewarm crowd into a cheering section. If someone wants to sit on the sidelines, offering their unsolicited critiques like they’re an unpaid Yelp reviewer for my life, that’s their prerogative. Meanwhile, I’ll be over here doing my thing, turning their side-eye into spotlight fuel.

Because here’s the truth: the louder you shine, the harder it is to ignore. And sure, some people might throw shade—but shade is just another way of telling you you’re standing in the sun.

So let them talk, let them grumble. Let them get all clever with their passive-aggressive zingers. Every word, every sideways glance, every underhanded remark? That’s proof you’re on their radar. And being on someone’s radar means you’re doing something worth noticing.

So, to the clappers, the pocket-clappers, and the shade-throwers turned accidental hype squad: thank you. Your energy is appreciated—however it comes.

Now, excuse me while I get back to being unapologetically me. 🌟

 From the Sky
To the Roots

We give thanks honor and love to the highest.
Reverence, Love, and Light

From My Lungs
To Your Lungs
I love you

Root Work!

Root Work

Gratitude, Reverence, and Love To Life, Death, the Will, and The Highest Spirit
Gratitude, Reverence, and Love To The Air, Fire, Earth, and Water
(You can add the motion deepening on how deep you need your root work to go.
Gratitude, Reverence, and Love To The Ancestral Apirits That I Come From In Honor Glory, and Elevation
Gratitude, Reverence, and Love For Liberation, Free, and Truth.

Candle Color:
Black
Green 
White

I would like to give thanks and gratitude to Valkyrja Vörðr for her guidance