You're a prolific journaler. If you don't have a pen and notebook handy, you start to get twitchy because writing is how you process everything. You're also woo as fuck, you swear a lot, your Guides are assholes, and your Divine Expression is a paradox of conflicting beliefs. You're not love and light kind of woo. You're altar to Lilith and Tarot decks in your bag kind of woo. You're the Bible and Quran have as much to teach us as Quantum Mechanics and Molecular Biology do kind of woo. You're reading Seneca and the Buddha and medieval alchemy and game theory kind of woo. You're everything is connected even if you can't see the connections kind of woo. You're also random, your mind jumping from place to place, and your attention quickly following. You're big into growth, but because your attention span is short, you need that growth to be fast or you'll get bored and move onto something else. Which means in the past, most of your growth has come from fuck ups. Lots and lots of fuck ups. You're ready for more deliberate growth, but you're so used to pain that if it's soft and gentle like an angel's wings, you'll probably laugh it off, already bored because it doesn't spark anything in your soul. You know you need to dive deep, and you're ready to do just that. But you might need a Bitchslap to get going.