When I was born into this life as April Washko, I tried to go back immediately.
My Mom told me this story today about how I refused to eat. Absolutely refused. She said she could see me, as a couple week old infant, trying to form adult words to communicate with her.
She said, "I thought I was going crazy, but I just knew it. You were so small, we could see all your veins.. You refused everything with a strange comprehension."
I know my last lifetime I spent as a Goddess. *shrug* They use the title, not me.
I guess... The best way I can describe it is... I knew I was learning. I knew I ascended, learned about humanity... It's like, I was in the super charged Lifeclass. I know I was a Guardian Angel, and I know who's Angel I was. I know it was like living in the most beautiful cluster of stars and sunsets ever.
I know I was really fucking historical in Egypt.
I know I died on the Titanic.
I know I was a prostitute on the riverboats back in the western days, I believe.
...now how in the fuck does a human being live with that knowledge? All of this shit?
Souls carry over. Every soul inside every human gives them all the abilities they've ever been made to believe are fake on those 'supernatural' type television shows.
I wish they would have sent me over with a manual on being human.
I feel like a computer that's running 400 programs at once.
I don't understand it.
This blog has been brought to you by a conversation I just had with my Aunt. She and my Uncle have always been the only two people who have always believed me. Who have never questioned me like I'm some idiot. Who have always treated me like an adult.
My Aunt asked me, "So, what's up with your dead friends?"
I told her about everything I can remember. So on. Pretty much the same stuff I've been typing here in some sort of organized venting process.
My Uncle has been gone for several years now, but I remembered a conversation I had with him when I was super young. So, I asked her, "Couldn't Uncle Harold do this a little bit?"
She laughed and said, "Sweetie, it was more than a little bit."
I believe I've typed our conversation here before. How he dreamt of Heaven, or wherever you'd like to call where we go when we die.
He even dreamt about 9/11.
"He was very embarrassed and ashamed of it." My Aunt told me. "He never talked about it because of his fears about other people's judgements."
God, I wish he was still here.
If only people knew.
I don't like being human. I really don't so far.
Like I remember my Uncle Harold saying to me years and years ago... I know what it's like, and I just wanna go back.
It's easy there. It really is. Easier than being human. I liked being in limbo. I liked guiding others and looking over people. I'm good at that.
...I hate this crap.
I feel like a pouting child in a corner who wants to play when no one wants to play.
Haha... That's pretty accurate.
I'm working on patience; and finding the peace in the inbetween.
Holy shit, my annual reading with my highly qualified medium friend is just not coming fast enough.
Really it's like a therapist for enlightened beings.
Most people live day to day. They don't hear anything, or see anything. They don't see and recognize messages or guidance. They can't follow a sign. They won't. They don't see people and just know things, or meet people and just know things. They don't sit in quiet and feel like they're not of this world. Not because they're sad or upset, or because they're better or anything. Just because they look around and live in experiences when even their best friends don't get it. At all. One bit.
No one does.
...& who even believes it?
It's not like the world is made up of Andrea's & Jim Clancey's. (Did I spell that right?)
Something must be going on. Somewhere.
I've been getting an unusually overwhelming feeling of displacement lately.
...is there something going on with the moon, or...? The fuck?
Maybe I'm slipping into restful anxiousness....?
That may be it.
I'm doing what I always say I shouldn't, and making excuses.
...I still always do it anyways.
There are people out there I'm destined to meet.
There are things I'm destined to do.
So much, so much to do... Destined to happen and be.
...am I the only fucking person who gets that?
Who knows that and couples everything else with it?
Who can see everyone else's messages, and gets frustrated with absolutely everyone for not following them? Or seeing them?
I'm only human, right now, after all.
So much that I must patiently wait for.
I don't know why I decided to be born with life on 'expert', but I'm angry at whoever let me make that choice.
Do they have meet-ups for people like me?
Welcome to a small fragment of the shit show that is my brain/soul/intuition. Rolled up into a tight ball of questions and confusion.
Jared always said, "You are the most fascinating person I've ever met."
You don't know the half, sweet cheeks.
You don't know the half.
Ramblings. Second installment. Check.