All Is Null

Dear, God

If anyone could hear my cries, it would be you.
All knowing, all powerful.
Dad tells me that God listens to children first.
Is that true?
I never want to write him as the bad guy. Just the true stories that sit in my head, and in my hands.
Dad had a brain injury in 1994. It wasn’t the same again. I was four years old. My life, and everything I knew. Gone. In.an.instant

(I keep hearing the buzzword: Demon-mode. That is the only way I can explain it)

Nothing stands in the path.
All is null.

Dear God, you are all knowing, all powerful. I believe you when you tell me that everything happens for a reason. I really do.

I hear two sources, one of divine light, and one of fear. I want to stick to the divine light for now.
I keep worrying about the days of darkness. Is that something a child should worry about?

My cousin started smoking. We are only ten years old. I’m told its bad for you, so I say no.

What is she dealing with?
She won’t tell me.
It must be bad.

She has migraines like me.

My Pastel Goth Life - DreamBook - I Need Advice - LyssaGal Studio

Dear Dreambook: I Need Advice

Journal Entry

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~ What Are Friends Anyway? ~

Dear Diary,
So I talked to James online again today. He lives in the UK which is like… so far away but whatever, time zones don’t matter when you’re talking to someone who actually gets you, you know? We stayed up until like 3am my time talking about everything, music, movies, how much we both hate our schools. He sent me this mp3 of a band I’ve never heard of and it’s SO good. I wish he lived here. Or I wish I lived there. Anywhere but here basically.
But then something really weird and stupid happened with Lynn and now I’m just… I don’t even know.

I thought Lynn was my friend? Like my actual friend. And I thought that’s what friends did, they shared their other friends. That’s how you make MORE friends, right?? So I was looking at her AIM profile (which she posts publicly for everyone to see btw) and I saw she had this list of screennames of people she knows. So I added a couple of them because I figured if they’re Lynn’s friends, maybe they’d be cool to talk to too?

Well APPARENTLY that was like… the worst thing ever???

She got SO mad at me. She sent me this message being like “why are you adding MY friends, that’s so weird, I didn’t say you could talk to them.” And I’m just like… what? They were on your PUBLIC PROFILE. You literally posted them for everyone to see. How was I supposed to know that was off limits?

I don’t understand friend dynamics at all. Like seriously, someone needs to give me a manual or something because I keep getting stuff wrong and I don’t even know what I did.

Is it really that weird to add people your friends know? I thought that was normal. I thought that’s how social circles worked. But now Lynn is being all cold to me and I feel like I did something horrible but I don’t even understand WHAT.

Maybe I’m just not good at this whole… people thing. Maybe that’s why talking to James feels easier. We’re just online. There’s no unspoken rules I’m breaking because I don’t know they exist.

Whatever. I’m tired of trying to figure out what I did wrong all the time.

Going to bed now. Maybe tomorrow will make more sense.

~ Your Confused Goth, Luna ~

Current AIM away message:

“in a world of locked doors, the man with the key is king… or whatever” ~

Blog Tired Goth Life

Dear Dreambook: I Think The Universe Talks To Me

Dear Dreambook,

Sometimes when I’m sitting in my room, I feel like the walls are alive. The painted handprints scattered across them look like constellations left by people who touched the stars before me. Above me, the striped ceiling folds like ribbons of night sky, and I wonder if the universe likes to decorate itself the way I do.

My purple camera rests warm in my hands. It doesn’t feel like just a camera—it feels like a gift. Every time I press the shutter, I think the stars slip a secret into the lens. I don’t just capture a picture. I hold something infinite.

I stack my books beside me—astrology, palm reading, astral travel, magic. They’re maps to invisible worlds, guides for the parts of me that want to wander beyond the ordinary. But the camera? It’s my telescope. My net for catching stardust.

Tonight, I looked at the sky again. The sunset burned pink and orange, then cooled into blue scattered with gold. It felt like the stars were practicing their art, brushing color across the horizon just for me. I raised my camera, clicked, and breathed.

Maybe the stars just want me to remember. That even on the days I feel small, the universe is close enough to fit in my hands.

And I believe it. Because when I look through my camera, I’m not only saving a moment. I’m holding the universe safe inside it, where it will never leave me.

xoxo, me

The Squirrels Secret - Pastel Goth Life - LyssaGal - Dear Dreambook

Dear DreamBook Entry :) The Squirrel’s Secret

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 💕

Dear Dreambook: My Brother, Orion

Dear Dreambook

My Brother, Orion

This afternoon Orion stood under the big oak tree, gazing up at a squirrel. At first I thought he was only daydreaming, but then he whispered, “He’s nervous about winter coming.”

Orion said the squirrel told him the cold always makes him worry, so he’s been harvesting leaves, tucking them away, hoping his nest will be warm enough. I didn’t hear a thing, just the usual chittering sounds. But Orion’s face was so serious, like he truly felt the little creature’s fears.

The strangest part was that the squirrel didn’t run. Usually they dart away the second you look at them, but this one stayed, tail flicking like a secret signal, as if it knew Orion understood.

Sometimes I wonder if the stars gave Orion a gift, the way they gave Astral her dreams of the cosmos. Orion hears the voices of the earth, Astral listens to the sky, and me… I think my gift lives in my hands, shaping color and line into art.

Maybe the universe speaks to each of us differently. Orion hears it. Astral dreams it. And I create it.

🖤 I think I heard the squirrel talking to me too (Shh!) 🖤

– Me <3

xoxo

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💔💗

xoxo

friends forever ✨

My Fear Has A Name - Pastel Goth Life - LyssaGal - Dear Dreambook

Dear Dreambook: Fear Has a Face. TW: Violence

TW: Violence

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 💕

Dear Dreambook,

My Fear Has A Face

I thought fear was just in my head, shadows that played tricks on me, whispers in the night. But tonight, it looked me in the eye and told me a story I’ll never forget.

He was older, late twenties. Too old to be hanging around us. His smile never reached his eyes, and when he spoke, the words sank into me like ice water. He said once he wanted to know what it felt like to stab someone. So he did. In a dark alley. To a random stranger.

I wanted to vanish when he said it. My friend laughed nervously, like maybe he was joking, but I could tell he wasn’t. There was no punchline in his voice.

We ended up at his house, and the walls felt wrong, like they were listening. He offered us alcohol. I said no. My friend didn’t. She giggled, lightheaded, her edges blurring. That’s when I noticed him and his friend kept glancing toward a dark room down the hall. Over and over. Their eyes said something their mouths didn’t, and it made me want to run.

Then he said he wanted to take me home. The thought of him knowing where I live, my sanctuary, my soft pastel cocoon—made my chest lock tight. I told him no. I walked her home instead. She leaned against me, heavy and small, while I searched the night for hidden teeth.

We made it back. She’s safe in her bed. But I’m still shaking, scribbling this into you, Dreambook. I keep asking myself why I always end up in houses I don’t want to be in, with people I never really trusted. Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to say no until it’s too late.

My fear had a name.

It was boundaries.

xo, 🖤 your softest goth in distress 🖤

– Me <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☮

☯

💔💗

xoxo

friends forever ✨

Dear DreamBook: Entry #w/e: My Fear Had A Name

The Day Silence Spoke

Dear DreamBook, I thought I’d found my safe place again — the one from the first chapter, where the air smelled like sugar and sunlight. But today it was… wrong. The walls still stood where I left them, but their colors had been rinsed out, like someone washed my memories and forgot to add them back. My favorite blanket felt like paper. The air pressed against my skin like wet cloth. I wandered, telling myself it was still mine. But then I heard it. My own thoughts — except not in my voice. They came from the far corner, soft at first: I liked it here. This was mine. Then sharper: You’re too loud. Stop that. Don’t be weird. That’s when I saw her. She was me, but… melted at the edges, like my reflection in a puddle someone just stepped in. Her mouth moved wrong. Her eyes didn’t blink at the right time. She stepped forward, and I felt her shadow push against my ribs. She said her name. Just one name. I.am.Silence And I knew her. I had always known her. Suddenly I was back in my childhood home. The floor warm from summer sun. My sundress spinning in circles, dizzy and laughing. Then a voice — Stop that, you’re bothering people. And a wall began to build inside me. Brick after brick, until I could barely breathe. The Silence didn’t touch me. She didn’t have to. She only watched. And I stopped myself from twirling. My heart is not something you can step on, ~Me xo