Webs That Bind Book 2: in the Heart of an Illusion…

By Justin Forrest

This book, so far, has been one of the hardest things that I’ve written. In so many tears that have laid on the canvas of my creation; so many pools of self-doubt that I had to separate out of my mind; so many heartaches that have turn me into the poet that utilizes the anguish for his art, in expressing another side of himself, this book for me is my medicine. I made the title a part of what I thought I’ve become— with the transitioning of my father and both the grandmothers on my mother and father’s side, my dog in 2017, and with the heartaches, love in a European value system—can bring.

In the Heart of an Illusion is more than just a love story, but the story of life, death, and rebirth into a becoming that is more suitable for me. It’s the pain I experienced as a child finally surfacing in the poem “And then Another Victim Was Found” and “Yesterday’s False Promises Are with the Sins of the Father,” just to name a few. My childhood was great, but I am still a human, and sometimes, I am unable to articulate my sadness, so here I go.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728300702

Justin Forrest

Hello my name is Justin Forrest, kind of new to writing biographies about myself so bare with me, thanks. I like to write and I write as much as possible, since I have a very complex imagination that contributes to my writings. In life I’m very quiet but always thinking of some new idea and or poem. The standard formats of writing Biographies are usually boring, but then again, I don’t know the standard format. I live in Baltimore MD and recently graduated from High School. Growing up as a kid I would have never thought that I would be writing poetry, and or having a book; but as time went on by I realized that I would love to share my writings with others other than friends and family. I also forgot to mention that I took fi rst place in a Poetry Competition that

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© 2019 Justin Forrest. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/08/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-0071-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-0070-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019901851

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Webs that Bind

Book 2:

In the Heart of an Illusion…

By

-Justin Forrest-

Archives

Dedication

A boy and His Etef (Father)

The Crucible of the Puppet

Mandala of an Egoist

‘The State of a Nightmare’ as Radiation Possesses the Human

I. For Better or For Worse

II. If I did it

III. Webs that Bind

IV. The Plight

V. Koshmar

Part 2:

I. His Ghost!

II. Preceding Dilemma 50806.png

III. Dear Reader

IV. I Found Lita’s Body Alive Last Sunday

V. The Friend of Whom

VI. The Odyssey of a Thespian Son

Part 3:

I. For Vodka told me so

II. Goodbye Cruel World

III. And then…another Victim was found

IV. The Acute Angle of my Possession

The Venerated Spirit

I. Inipu, Is she Alive?

II. The Odd Tale of a Kem* Mistress

III. In the Heart of an Illusion

IV. Primordial Sun

V. The Pacifist’s Secret

Part 2:

I. Forest of Hidden Dreams

II. Fly Away Little Butterfly, Fly Away!

III. The Cockatoo and her Peasant Boy

IV. My Lil Golden EP

V. Tis the Glory of Sol

VI. Kiss of a Nightwife

VII. Voices of an Angel

Part 3:

I. The Ode to a Musician

II. House of Cards

III. Times Prudent Arrangement

IV. This is for my Friends

The Intoxication of Her Love

I. My Devious Deceptions

II. The Sun, the Moon, and the Truth

III. To Suffocate Silently

IV. Puff’s Conundrum

Part 2:

I. Temptation Taunts my Fingertips

II. To the Girl that I Desire

III. Cell Phones and Batteries

IV. My Ideations…

V. Knees Alone Can’t Walk

Part 3:

I. At-least she wasn’t a Silver Bullet

II. The Universal Gift

III. Ethos Mythos Logos

IV. Aphorism of her Beauty

V. Intoxication

The Path that Humans’ Take

I. Shhhhh, while the Devil is beating his Wife

II. These are the Days of our Lives

III. There ain’t no White Horses at St. Tim’s

IV. Yesterday’s False Promises are with the Sins of the Father

V. The Life that Continues

Part 2:

I. Dream Girl 50806.png

II. My Sadness was changed by the Kemioo

III. In the Oracle of Eten

IV. May the Force be with you

The Heart of the Revolution

I. The Mysterious Melanated Man

II. And there the Taurus Stands

III. Red Eyes Black Dragon

IV. The Prophesy

Part 2:

I. To a Nation of Vigilantes

II. La Saga de los Muertos Vivientes

III. Novus Ordo Seclorum

IV. They Say Nigga’s Only Want

V. The Heart of a Haitian

Writers Notes

Life is an Entity formed by the Dialogue of Energies which the Earth Receives and Emits or Broadcasts. The cycle of conception, birth, aging, and of death is the physical consequence of a harmony that is created among forces, that decay because every channel, of these energetic expressions continues towards its own becoming. -Master Neb Naba Lamoussa Morodenibig. (Maakheru/Truthteller)

-Dedication-

With time I’ll tell a story,

With time I’ll tell a dream;

With time I’ll unveil a mystery

Of the greatest woman I’ve ever seen.

With Time the world will know her,

In prose, truth, and Love;

With time the future gave me,

An immaculate gift from above.

So Time I shall walk amongst you,

And live fully in your name,

So that in due time

I too shall be the soil for your grain.

But for now, I will follow her lead,

And continue to grow in true,

But before I end this poem

I wanted to say, Mom, this is for you.

I thank you for everything you’ve done

of which is too numerous to speak,

I thank and love you always,

Even after times sand depletes.

So with truth, love, compassion and what you taught me as a child,

I now have the proper abilities to survive this world of wild.

Em Ren Eee Nefer Mout

In the Name of my Beautiful mother: Jeannia Forrest.

A boy and His Etef (Father)

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The hardest days of my life was when I was in mourning of you, Dad. I remember vividly seeing you pulsating on the bed-room floor, struggling for life as my worst nightmares while I was in High School, actualized themselves during that day. Many hours, days, months after such an event I spent in mourning, viciously crying while trying to contain myself and be strong for the family; I knew what was up though. My tears perplexed themselves as in every silent hall I was banished to, which positioned me into being a boy struggling to suggest to himself that he was soon to lose his Dad. I sought to relinquish my sorrows to my family members on numerous occasions, as we all tried to escape the reality of the situation and reminisce on the memories. It was the memories that provided me with stability; as I watched an able man crumble to the lifeless state of inertia. An able man whose encounters with numerous people generated him a great and memorable person amongst his peers, now cocooned into being unable to speak and confined to bed rest. It soon became only the generators that I heard in those hospital beds, with the frequent beeps of the machines as I hoped your voice would puncture through, with its bellowing temperament and stop the aching of my heart; but nothing… I was confiscated of that, that ability to hear your voice… That ability to rationalize the situation in what I knew what was happening, that my Dad wasn’t going to make it. I could feel it. Though the unforgiving entity shaped itself into hope, but at the same time I still had the memories…

I write these statements now without the tears that previously would cataract my eyes. I write these words as a placement marker, since I know now that, blood is like a river that continuously flows.

-And this book is from a pebble in that continuous river. -

In Memory of Michael F. Forrest.

Δ 1950-2013 Δ

349-412

I will love you always. Sincerely your Son.

The Crucible of the Puppet

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I would like to call your attention; gather around children I have something to say. Understand the severity in these scenes as it toils and frolics through your consciousness. I condemn the illusions herein for they are far from the perplexity of illusory. Rather they are gifted memories compiled in the deepest fortress of the heart. I have collected what I thought to be the best representations of the Narrative the Egoist wrote before his passing. I wanted to clear the air here before any transgression arises from his transition, which was bounded to Devotion as it took the offering calabash and walked with the candle to spread his offering over the land. Realize the nature of the Egoist in his journey with the burden of burying several family members at once, and the unforeseen crucible that Love entraps the honest seeker with.

From my encounters with him and from his betrayal with me I wanted to include his strength that illuminated the darkness that harbored in his heart. Just like with all of us, he was battling it, yet it still manifested and entranced him in her powers. Before we continue here in, I would like to introduce myself to you reader, for my name is Voda and I will be your guide for this Odyssey through the Mandala of an Egoist.

Before we continue with this journey, I would like for you to join me as I make this offering. I would need your full participation so this puppeteer show can commence properly. I will need you to gather four candles, a deep bowl or gourd, some incense preferably Myrrh because of the hours in which you came to me, three cups of water, along with three wooden bowls, a violet flower of any type except pansies; non-hydrogenated butter, a Silver Bullet, a moss covered log or stick, and a picture, any picture of the Egoist; I’m sure you can find them scattered in this book. Once you have those items, I will bring out the chicken, turtle, or Canary (depending on what you prefer) and we can begin the sacrifice.

Now that you have the items, well even if you don’t I do now, because of your thoughts to what I needed we can begin…

Say these words and hear them aloud your voice.

Wrap me in your requiem ole Spirit and may the blood of this Offering drip into the pockets of this pentacle as it sways to solidify my position. I grant you access to ease me, toil and tease me to see the secrets in these Webs that Bind. I am the miracle more so a savant searching for sobriety and I need you to lead me, to the apex of my desire. I call on the spirt of those who watch over to protect me. I call on the spirit of those who guide me. I place my life as a cushion to secure the buttocks burdening my weight and I secluded myself in the sanity of these lines. Please allow my spirit to endure the suffering therein and it not change my temperance to the outside world. Please calculate my manifestations in the silent soliloquy uttered from my tongue. May you tarnish enough of your personal possessions together to induce this crucible. I am your test as you come to me and I stalk you. You indulge in me and I indulge in you the honesty and personify confidence and instill it in your veins.

Good, I’m glad you are here I’m glad you are done. Don’t worry they were honest words, just a mere fabrication of the instructions left from the Egoist. (In a whisper Voda says) Nothing of me, see I know who you are…

Okay, follow me. The instructions here in have been made available for you and you should see them, the Egoist has given you a map that allows the story to unfold. He quite cleverly has given you the tools to betray me. (Deeply Voda Laughs) Yet I doubt you will understand what you have gotten yourself into by cracking open the spine of these bountiful words. The Egoist had an affection towards the Sun, the Moon, and the Truth as it riddles the consciousness of you, the Reader. He placed moon phases so you could follow his path that he walked and articulate in the nature of his sorrow. I wanted to guide you further on why I think he did it. If you look at the Archives of this Obituary, then you will see a clear indication in the different sections we wrote. Notice I say we cause before he betrayed me, I was a part of his Bloodline. I was the manifestation of his dreams. I was his father’s crutch and his father before. He needed me! (Voda clears his throat). Anyway, this will be a tool to help you seek, see, and humble yourself to the overall story.

(Voda in a deep eerie voice begins his rant) I am in the Story, rather in several stories herein and although the Egoist portrays me in such a negative light, I will be your guide. I am Alive and he, that bastard of a writer is no longer with us. It’ll just be you and I confiscating the belittling words that reprisal wrote in the sobriety of his lines. How foolish of an idiot he was to battle me, for I Voda can conceive before conception; before the idea I am the seed planted in the soil and you, reader, are my Puppet. Watch as I peddle this pageant around planets planting pansies perfectly in the seams of your mind; you read it once, but this is the Second Webs that Bind. For I am the poison that keeps you awake at night, the serum that deteriorates your liver. I am the syrup that slithers into your veins and darkens your heart, as I gather my spirits and corrupt you with Fun. You foolish imbecile to believe that your body can fully empty out my possession and sanctify your sanity in the sanctuary of religion. For I am your Religion and you will worship Me, Voda your God. Your Savior. Your Messiah. Since you are the manifestations of my Koshmar. So here is where you enter, in the brush strokes laid on this pathetic canvas that he, The Egoist has presented to you. Enjoy his words for mine will always be with you too…

Sincerely,

Our Secret

– Introduction –

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Mandala of an Egoist

Dear, to whomever reads these words…

This book so far, has been one of the hardest things that I’ve written. In so many tears that have laid on the canvas of my creation; so many pools of self-doubt that I had to separate out of my mind. So many heart aches that have torn me into the Poet that utilizes it for the anguish for his art, in expressing another side of himself, this book for me is my medicine. I made the subtitle a part of who I thought I’ve become with the transitioning of my Father, and both the Grandmothers on my Mothers, and Fathers side, my dog in 2017 and with the heartaches, love in a European value system, can bring. In the Heart of an Illusion is more than just a love story, but the story of Life, Death, and Rebirth into a becoming that is more suitable for me. It’s the pain I experienced as a child finally surfacing in the poem, And then Another Victim was Found and Yesterday’s False Promises are with the Sins of the Father, and The Crucible of the Poet just to name a few. My childhood was great, but I am still a human and sometimes I am unable to articulate my sadness, so here I go.

In certain productions in this book there are references to Kem or Kemetic influenced words or phrases, thoughts and that is a part of the rebirth. It’s interesting because while writing this book I also am going through (or have went, depending on when you read this) an initiation, that has traceable history back to the Pharaonic society, of what in called Egypt or Egyptian. The Word Egypt comes from the Greek (Ger Ka) word Aegyptus, and that comes from the MEDU (Hieroglyphic) word Hej P’tah and never actually referred to a place, but a concept. On the initial start of this book I had no idea about the initiation, nor did I know I would be at the precipice in it and the position of where I am in life. But that’s just how things happen sometimes, unexpecting and you just have to manage while its here.

I went through a state in this book where I am beginning to shed my colonial upbringing and beginning to walk the path as a human, learning about the existence of the World of the Gods’ and the importance of taking care of his Ancestors; there is even a poem that reflects that in, These are the Days of our Lives. I did not want to fully engulf my exposure into this book, not now at least, because of why I am even writing this book, but how can I separate myself…? Some poems in here are explicit, which I’ve tried something new for in the past I’ve never really wrote about sex, lust, and temptation…but I figured this would be the perfect medium to do so. I’ll list them so you won’t randomly stumble upon them, but if you read them, they are quite enjoyable.

Like all my books, well, mainly Thrones: Little Black Book (which can be found by accessing www.ThronesLBB.info) I have codes. But unlike that book no math is used in this book, nor is there a chart, just moon phases. This passage is a tool for comprehension which will be the guide to connect the mysteries together. The passages that have the same moon phase on it is in relation to the others that have the same one as well. I did this to draw on each other and I thought it would be a neat idea to continue the story that way. Now it doesn’t matter the order that you read them, or if you read them at all, but I wanted to exercise the mind a little, so enjoy.

For Comprehension

It’s important to pay attention to what actually connects and who the Author might be referring to in some of the passages. For the Moon phases link the passages together but it might not necessarily be the same person that the Author is mentioning. For example, the woman and man of Koshmar and The Universal Gift aren’t the same people, but it does relate to the Author’s story. So, its vital if you wanted to comprehend the Author’s story, to pay attention to the trail. The Authors story specifically has (the Full moon) in it. Granted, this whole book is the Author’s story, but the passages that directly relate to the Author has that phase in it.

Sexually Explicit Stories:

‘The State of a Nightmare’ as Radiation Possesses the Human

♠ For Better or For Worse

The Venerated Spirit

♠ Kiss of a Night Wife

The Intoxication of Her Love

(Part 2)

♠ Temptation Taunts my Fingertips

(Part 3)

♠ The Universal Gift

Warning: Be careful of that Voda character, he has an ulterior motive sometimes and manifests in the book. Just do your diligence and enjoy this Book 2 of Webs that Bind.

One day I will die and no longer be physically present. One day, all traces of me will be dust; all of my thoughts will manipulate themselves into the waters and valleys of life. I will no longer be the self of flesh, but the All of Spirit—and that is beauty.

- The Impermanence of my body-

J.F

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Chapter 1:

‘The State of a Nightmare’ as Radiation Possesses the Human

The Human being is deep. The Human heart is deeper than the darkness. Just as one cannot see the bottom of the darkness, one cannot see the bottom of the Human heart. A Proverb of the Tem Culture

For Better or For Worse

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I Gave her Mercury.

She gave me Hell.

It stalked me, then repelled…

To expel an evil entity out of another human one must know where it is, where it sleeps and lives. How it manipulates its surroundings orchestrating a need to attest. It’s important to protect yourself too, at best… When expelling something from someone the contagion isn’t similar in repose¹, because the person who has become attracted to its effects, to you on the entity’s behalf, will not disclose. Any information obtained on the nature of the entity will specifically be studied from each case. And if you find yourself alone doing the exorcism, its best to hide from it your face. You can use a mirror for its repulsion to convulse the thing into a fit, but make sure the mirror doesn’t have another angle to project. Since the force of its exertion can contort even the strongest mind, so you always want to encapsulate it in any Webs that Bind.

When expelling away an evil entity, as stated before, it’s good to know where it dwells, because at the point of separation it might become irascible and travel back to the person to further compel. Most of these entities can shamble through time, so it’s good to find the right amount of Solitude, thereafter, because without knowing its effects the insidious poison can affect the wondering mind.

See, this is a fable that I would like to give you, in reference to the girl of the story, Universal Gift; cause when you pop yo pussy, you gotta do it like disss…

Sincerely,

The Exorcist

It spoke to me, so subtly that I could barely make out its name. At-least it wasn’t haunting, still its passion tried to possess me in the same. For this manner afflicted my consciousness leaving me a little disposed, so to erase this Koshmar (Nightmare), towards Vodkas spirit I shall compose. It behooves the reader to know that I will try my best to explain, since the full memories from these events that follow, in my consciousness have found only one corridor to remain.

Day 1 - The Meeting

It had trouble sleeping in my room where it was bound that night, although she slept comfortably. I couldn’t count how long I wrestled with the conflict of seeing her breathing peacefully and knowing it was lurking through my stuff. It was very interested in the dark corners of my room seemingly as if the darkness gave it the solace needed to possess her, or whatever it did to her. I tried that night to separate my senseless ideations about what was happening as if it was really just in my Ideations. So of course, I resented the idea of tossing and turning, betraying the hours of sleep that I would get since I wake up at 4am for work; while all along trying not to disturb that angel who slept by my side. But was it really an angel or just my illusions playing tricks on me, especially if It was a part of her? Either way I allowed that possibility to marinate in my dreams… so away into my dreams we shall go.

My Night Dream: Her canvas was consecrated² with a formidable incision, inciting conflict to intertwine. I dined in calamity as it ate at my spine. I wanted to follow It, as It circled my room, but the moons order ordered me to compel and leave it to swoon. So, I found myself drifting in confusion, fusing Mercury for surgery, and masquerading magically to dispel. I watched it perform in matrimony while making noises in her ears, whispering languages I wasn’t quite familiar with, as she squirmed and murmured with a jubilant tale to tell. Her requiem³ required service, a servant severely deformed. An informed savant⁴ signing autographs with how I mourned. I mourned greatly too since I could not understand all that was happening as I went deeper into that dream and as soon as I went, I forgot what I saw, for the days light above, spoke in its absence of that previous scene.

Day 2 - It’s Personification

There was an entity following her, probably leading her to wherever it wanted her to go but I wasn’t aware of how insidious it could be… At that time, she was mine since the signs displayed all around. I was happy too but It by reason of invitation, was mine as well. When she was in my room, near me, closer to me than anyone, I could feel It. We were the three amigos animated to preform; I wanted her to myself and It knew—I had to perform. In a sense that entity was eccentric and because of her It let me have what I wanted. It let me do just about anything in the parallels of hosting the ‘hottest gift the Universe could bestow’ on me; but I always knew It was lurking in the corners. It traveled everywhere it wanted in my room, except in my prayer space for I knew that It knew that that location was off limits. I felt It wanting to go in, but in a sense, It also was waiting for her command. This is why I say It was a part of her because at this point, at whatever stage It came to her…It was there until expelled.

I knew that It knew, that I could feel it. I couldn’t see it so it wasn’t like my eyes were glued to a figurine that frolicked through my room, but I knew…that It knew…that I could feel its presence. I didn’t like it, but It tolerated me to the point where I and It became, friends; for we both wanted the same person just in different ways. Sometimes when she wasn’t around It had a personification about it, because It would come to me and mimic her presence. On occasions where she and I had sex, that if she left to go home or do whatever she had to do in the world, I would feel it still there enjoying our encounter. And on this day, (and we will just call it day 2 to make it clean) I had a daydream.

My Daydream: My orchestration opened an optical illusion illustrating strangely a strangled stranger stranded in between a cocoon; rubbing his wounded knee while whistling to the moon. He had an aroma about him that ovulated my sense of time, taking me further to follow him but with one direction at a time. I found that this man was actually planting sage by a tree, whispering to it, while periodically pointing back at me. Occasionally his folly consumed him causing him to laugh, ZEBTHOO⁵ and so the sides of his body he would grasp. I was grossed out yet further to him I came. I walked with fear in my heart because I did not know what he entertained. The moons light grazed this man perfectly on the left side of his face, but he hid from me, as a game, and I was too betwixted⁶ to chase. Still he spoke to the plant playing an Oracle at best, bolstering his beatific beak trying to confess. I saw in-between the pockets of looking at him and the space beside his body that the plant was yellow and blue, yet I couldn’t find what exactly he was trying to do. When I reached a certain point closer to him, I guess I was too close because he suddenly stopped, dropped whatever else was in his hand and stood up. I then awoke from that dream.

Day 3 - The Hum of the Serpent

I wanted her to sing to me because she could… She didn’t think she could sing or couldn’t do so that well, but I was just mesmerized by her voice that hearing it in any octave filled my heart with love. See, she had a slight lisp which was the cutest thing about her, well one of them, besides for that indication above her right eye… either way I wanted to hear her croon. Instead It wanted me to feel its presence and not neglect it from its manifestation. It wanted me to listen, but my reprisal rejected its identity of being in my space. We weren’t always about to sleep for me to feel it being there, but a commonality was us being in my room. I think it felt lost or trapped since the size of my room was so limited and I know I was foolish to assume but she, was found because I found her… but who was I? Haha I on the other, I had become an immigrant without my migration papers facing insomnia at every turn. This night in particular I wanted to celebrate the feminine divinity in her, meaning I wanted sex and with her nature she wanted it too. Though the previous week I failed to live up to who I could be and needed redemption.

My performance wasn’t that great though and no I’m not going to go into detail, but besides for eating her pussy as if She was my Universal Gift, I personally didn’t cum. I couldn’t and it wasn’t her fault it was mine. I was scared to, not about getting her pregnant but It already entranced itself into my deepest fears. It consumed me and personified my majesty in a symphony simply stiffening my imagination while neutralizing my needs. That night I still came but not by ejaculation, I came into a dream because It seemed to always meet me on fair grounds. So, she was naked, laying basically on top of me and once again I was staring into the endless darkened walls that eroded my room… thinking…suffocating…dreaming…

My Night Dream: Her canvas was consecrated with a formidable incision, inciting conflict to intertwine. I dined in paradise as It ate at my spine. I tried to surrender to it hoping that It would go away but It wanted more from me—so I had to go away. I couldn’t tell if It was man or woman since she was Bisexual, and I didn’t know if It could be too. But It slept with me as a woman, doing the things that she previously sought to do. I fought this pecker sucker, pushing and peddling plums into its mouth. I wanted it gone, yet she didn’t know it was out… I was already conflicted from the night’s ordeal as it began to ease through my room, making its way to my closet hoping to close it and resume. She slept on the inside of the bed closes to the wall. I slept on the slither of what was left hoping not to fall. But It slept in between us singing lullabies that during the day she hummed, pushing me further into thrall while trying to bait me into having a little fun.

Although It didn’t want much of anything that night, just to see her shine. I looked at whom I loved, in hopes that she would be fine. But of course, this dream had to get shady, because as soon as I thought It went away, my mind staggered and I began to see a face emerge from her back. I had to think quickly as it began to shake, rumble, and crack. The face was a little pale and not really clear to tell who it was, though I could see by its cheeks that it was a man. It loved her and I could sense that as I tried to fight the dream. I loved her too so to show it that she was mine I moved closer in on her being. I grabbed her and pulled her as close to me as she could get… as just then I woke up and the days light was all that I could see.

Day 4 - The Mockingbird

Sometimes I felt a little sadistic sleeping next to her in that bed. It wasn’t always easy for me to go to sleep. Unless I worked all day without napping and when I did finally go to sleep, I didn’t necessarily stay. It was interesting because at that point I accepted she was there for and with me, but It was too—and I accepted that as well. I could feel it wanting me, wanting to comprehend who this Aquarian was and why I could feel its presence. I’m sure every other boy or girl she dealt with didn’t know that this thing was there, but I knew, and It knew that I knew. After a while I began to love her…which sucked for me because I knew the relationship wasn’t going to