I have never been good at reading Tarot for myself. I'm pretty okay at it when it comes to other people, but when it comes to deciphering my own cards, it may as well be written in kanji.
Right up until I got my Oliver Hibert deck (swoon).
I am so madly in love with this deck, and I maaaaay be reading too much into this, but I think it loves me, too.
So, yeah. Ain't we cute? 🖤
Anyway, my main squeeze had been doing his own readings with the Radiant Rider-Waite deck I bought for him, and it got pretty weird. Apparently he's got a little bit of competition when it comes to my affection, in the form of me running off into the sunset with someone else. He got several similar layouts, which is just odd because I'm surrounded by fuckboys and believe me, I'm not interested. Been there, done that, never again. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to take photos of his layouts because it really was weird. And consistent. But other than the occasional dick pic or some sasquatch motherfucker hitting on me, there was nothing and nobody I was interested in. Definitely no one to share affection with.
Fast forward to about 2 months ago. I'd finished one of my facebook #TarotTuesday events and decided to pull for myself.
"What can I expect in the future?"
Oh. Mah. Gawds.
Check out this bombshell.
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| (O.o) Say wuuuuut? |
Yeah, you're seeing that right. The Page of Cups, King of Cups (partnered with the Two of Swords), and The Lovers (partnered with the Ten of Cups).
Those two extra cards refused to be separated from their partners, so I kept them around as clarifiers.
Seriously, have you ever seen a more intense love interest? Look at it! Obviously, Mr. King o' Cups has some pretty difficult decisions to make (why?), but this is the most happily ever after soul mate twin flame bullshit I have ever seen. Ever. Ever ever ever. It was so intense, I made it my FB cover photo a few days later.
Okay, time to breath again and figure out what this actually means. I wasn't cheating, I didn't know anyone who might have been harboring a secret burning passion for me...maybe I'd be getting a dog? Dogs are pretty loyal. But I live in an apartment. I can't have a fucking dog. What (and I cannot stress this enough) the fuck?
And to make matters worse, I asked the very same question a month ago, and GUESS WHAT.
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| Okay, now you're just being mean. |
The fuggin' Knight of Cups, Judgement (!!!), and the Ace of Cups.
I'm honestly kind of terrified by this. I don't even want to speculate on it, so instead, I've been doing what any perfectly sane person would do by holding my breath and trying not to think about Mr. Right. He's definitely not the balding fuck who bothers me on messenger every day. Definitely not the creep who sent me the dick pic on Instagram and called me a fat whore when I didn't respond. It's gotta be a dog.
So much for not thinking about it. Ugh.
Mr. Right, if you're reading this right now, I need you to bark three (3) times in rapid succession to let me know this is real. I can't stand not knowing for sure, and I really do hate to assume you're someone you're not. I understand that the Two of Swords has you in a bit of a bind - surely your current owner is lovingly giving you chin or ear scritches as I type, but dammit, you belong to me now. Clearly.