You made it when you came into being.
The magick is finding it again.
For some reason, I crave consistency in only one thing.
My own arts.
What is it that's so precious about a boy asleep in your bed?
What great magick it is!
It's incredibly hard to focus on (rather pointless) homework in a room so filled with powerful energy aftershock waves. Absorbed into the bed, the walls, the air, bouncing all around in glorious fashion.
Ahhhhhh...I've got a singing room.
The events of last night and waves created (or revealed) are clearly so much more meaningful than anything else I could be concentrating on at the moment.
Yeah. La la la. That's so good. Wow.
I'll have to sleep in front of the window and concentrate on the cold air in order to get any rest at all tonight.
Up wave, down wave. Rocks my little boat world. Buzzing. Zooming. Not bullshitting.
You made it. And there just needs to be here. And nothing else can even compete for notice.