I really like the idea that I’m always walking that fine line between greatness and self destruction.
Recently, I’ve been really into palmistry and numerology. You might be surprised to find that I was really in to palmistry in junior high. Flash to a montage of my best friend and I at library round table, surrounded by books all about palmistry. Some of them modern, some of them aging. We’d whisper and giggle, attempting to unlock the secrets of our destiny. I’m not sure why we stopped. I feel like there were a lot of great passions I’ve had that at one point simply stopped. I haven’t lost interest in them, so I’ve never quite figured out why I stopped researching them. I was never into numerology before, but my friend mentioned it and it seemed interesting.
My numbers and my palm express destinies that I’m terrified to live up to. A and L got physically excited when reading my palms. They were jumping up and down, whispering excitedly to each other. Meanwhile, I sit silently, jealous of this intuitive knowledge they have which I seem to lack but wary of what they’re about to tell me. Both agree that my palms say that I’m going to make some huge impact on humanity. There’s other things, including something unique about my bracelets linking together or something. I don’t know quite enough about palmistry to really be knowledgeable about it. My numerology places me at an 11. Coincidentally, it says things similar to what L and A told me. Part of me wants to believe in this sort of magic and souls.
On a silly note, L was excited to tell me I’ll meet my real soul mate in my thirties. My response was, “I have to wait THAT long?!”
