MOUSAGÉTĒS
MOUSAGÉTĒS
Lia
Journal entries, essays (kind of), short stories, and a piece of my brain served for you. I am trying to figure things out.
Latest Posts
I have refused to read The Bell Jar if not in its original English. Back at home, a copy of it was already a bit costly; not insanely so, but enough that it was out of budget to ask for it as a birthday gift (I'd look too greedy), and it...
Today was my third presentation here. It means I have only one more to go before I can leave this place and pretend it never existed. It did not go how I planned or how I hoped it would go, and that knowledge is making me writhe in...
Why is this happening?9 cups Desire fulfillment "Getting what you want" Expectations Performance Output The Devil ® Breaking dependency (in progress) Reclaiming control Breaking of chains Detach from something unhealthy 2 of wands...
Hay dos claves para la abundancia: Las leyes del universo (we must be attuned to them in order to live in perfect harmony with it) 7 dones internos (Notas de la clase con Maria Montemayor de Soy Abundante. I don't agree with everything...
La Gnosis y las Escuelas de AutoconocimientoEn la antigüedad autoconocimiento = ciencia = espiritualidad. En la actualidad no reconocemos que estamos conectados con todo lo que nos rodea; las personas, la naturaleza, las historias. Esa...
Something not depressing for once, who would've thought. These notes are from my almost 200 pages long Chinese master-doc. I've been studying Mandarin for a bit over two years (as long as I've lived in Taiwan) and these are some of my...
It is hard to pinpoint the exact moment I began wanting to live. It is recent, though I am not. I have been wandering aimlessly and painfully for no particular reason. My existence, though materially comfortable, has been a mystery I...
December 23rd, 2023Mui Ne, VietnamI dreamt of Lord Satan. I was in a cozy, candlelit room, the type of place you'd call your boyfriend to break up with him, but trying to let him down easy. He wasn't entirely corporeal, more so a shadow,...
There's a smell to sickness. A slow kind of rot. It is soft and written between the lines, cushioned by cotton and something worse than antiseptic. It's in the bodily fluids and the inhaled dust of crushed pills that are to be diluted in...
A Latina writes vaguely on the myth of nonchalance and the metaphysical weight of shared passion. There’s a thunderous roar, the kind that makes you wonder if Maimaktês Zeus has graced us with his golden footsteps, reckoning at our...