For two days I managed to lift myself from bed and do something productive, so I would say I’m feeling a little better.
That being said, I believe very thoroughly in having a spiritual connection with the universe and respecting the interconnection we all have with each other, with the stars, the planets, and this realm of reality in general. I’ve known I’ve been needing some money apart from the money I’ll be making at my new job, and this week I believe I’ve been saved once again.
Some people pray, some people obsess, some people believe in luck. My mother often goes crazy over the lottery and buys tickets almost every day, no matter how often I tell her the amount she spends way exceeds the amounts she’s ever won. She spreads the colors red and gold through her room for “good luck”, something I personally don’t believe in.
We all know I have different views on reality, I believe I made an entire post on it. We all know that I see signs and symbols in everything: call it ideas of reference, or call it a creative mind, you choose. All I know is that since I was a child this method has worked for me.
I read that one book “The Secret” because my mother is also obsessed with it and it was trash. All those books are trash.
It’s hard to explain a connection I’ve felt since I was a toddler and could think about these kinds of things, but it’s always been there and it’s always been dependable. This sounds odd to a lot of people, talking to the universe and having it listen to you. Makes it sound like I’m hearing things in my head. I’m not.
I predicted where we would live while we were homeless. I felt it in the air and I wrote it down in an essay in school. My teacher loved it. And after I finished writing it, including my explanation of my connection with the universe, everything I’d written came true. I said we would live in the four different regions of this county (there are about six different regions within the overall city we live in) and I listed the order it would happen, and it did. I said once we finished those four specific regions, we would find another apartment. It wouldn’t be a house, but it would be an apartment, and it would be across town from my high school. Which is where I still live today.
It wasn’t something I guessed, it was something I felt.
I feel I’ve been sending out distress signals and this afternoon I came home to two checks and a third on the way, in addition to the other two I picked up yesterday. So five checks total in two days, a couple worth three hundred, one worth two hundred, another worth four hundred.
I thought my college account only had $300, and when I looked yesterday it had $1500.
I don’t know where the numbers are coming from, or why they’re coming, but they are.
It’s not about being lazy and manipulating the universe to your every whim. It’s not about not having to work for the rest of your life. It’s about understanding that you will always have what you need if you’re connected in life. This money isn’t something I want just to spend frivolously, it’s something I need to save. It’s something I’m putting to use for other people, not just myself. It’s something I want to use to give experiences to people who have always used their money to give me experiences. There are two birthdays coming up, father’s day, a car that needs fixing, and a trip to L.A this summer, so I’ve got my work cut out for me in terms of budgeting.
I withhold from bragging about these kinds of things because that’s not good natured. If I found a hundred dollar bill on the ground I would text my friend and say “look what I got bitch, suck it”. But I know the checks that I have in my hand that happen to come all at once, some of which have been due to me since 2013. If I win this particular writing competition I’m gunning for, well . . . my life will be complete.
I’m gunning for two, actually. One of which won’t alert me if I won or not until September. One will tell me by July 1st, and that would be perfect before I go to Los Angeles.
I’m going to Compton to find Ice Cube.
And by Compton to find Ice Cube, I mean Universal Studios. Seems like a social anxiety nightmare, I know, but I’ve never done it and I’ve never been to L.A, and I’ve let my anxiety hold me back from a lot of things. There are some things, like going to amusement parks, where I suck it up the best I can because I know I can have fun if I would just give myself a chance.
Speaking of having fun, the tickets I wanted for a concert this may were sold out because my dumbass forgot to buy them a month ahead like I usually do: my depression stole my annual concert from me. But it’s alright, I spammed their reservation ticket website with four different email addresses, so the next four tickets are going to me. I’ll resell two of them.
If anyone can figure out what the hell this post is about or why I’m even writing it, feel free to comment below.
Because I’m pretty sure by today’s standard of being completely disconnected with everything except your Insagram, Facebook and Twitter profiles, I must sound crazy.