living large and in charge

Difference Between Crystals, Indigos, and Rainbows

A lot of people have been asking me this so I’ll explain the basics.

Indigos are of a variety of quantum vibrations that makes them the indigo warriors. They will feel upset with the evils in humanity and (as teens) can lose their temper easily. Eventually their vibrations will ascend with age and they will become very peaceful and free spirited but will still debate you in a very inspiring way if you say something wrong. They are people a lot of others look up to. If they are around other star children they will ascend into crystals.

Crystals are born a little bit more advanced. They will see auras, spirits, and remember past lives since childhood. Their auras are very large, which makes them “charged” like a crystal. They also know how to manipulate quantum energy in crystals and the fabric of reality to an extent (in adulthood). Crystals are often diagnosed with adhd or autism as children and can be traumatized easily because, like crystals, they can break. Crystals often pick very difficult lives to grow in. Crystals also are more one with their friends but can imitate the vibration of people around them, so they, often as teenagers, pick up a lot of negative energy.

Rainbows are the children of the current generations of star children. They started in the 2000’s. I, as a crystal, have never met one in person but a kid astral projected to me his whole life, and I later found about of his existence. They are very powerful and wise. His mother is currently a dark crystal who picked a much more difficult life than mine and can sometimes become very dark due to the things she has lived through, manipulating reality to an extent in the negative makes her attract a lot of people of lower vibrations but also star children like me so she needs to hide to avoid people with bad energy or she will pick up on it and imitate it.

Anakin vs Kylo

I love Kylo Ren. I really, really do. He’s an interesting, raw mess. He also reminds of my beloved Anakin Skywalker, which gives him extra points in my book. But all this “Anakin SHOULD have been like Kylo Ren” thing isn’t working for me. Noooope! They are similar but who they are and where they come from are very different. Let me see if I can put this into words.

Anakin had a lot of swagger, charm, and determination. Even at his most broken down, it felt like he had a purpose no matter how wrong it was. His tenacity is in his face. The mask just becomes the next stage of it.

Kylo Ren… The moment Kylo takes off his mask, he’s brittle. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just a very raw characterization. This isn’t the guy whose attitude was built up from being a slave on a harsh planet and then a general in a war that lasted years. Anakin always wanted to better/stronger but he also knew he was a powerhouse. Kylo is maybe Mustafar!Anakin without that knowledge and experience.  That was the beauty of AD’s performance. He was brittle, insecure, and still fighting/clawing to find his place in the First Order. He truly is living in the shadow of Vader - so far. He was not large and in charge. He was young and corrupted. It was perfect for who he is supposed to be.

To put it simply: Kylo Ren was the corrupted. Anakin Skywalker was the fallen. There was some overlap, but they play different roles in the saga.

Blood Alive: Creepypasta

Blood… I used to love blood. I used to love feeling of it pump through my veins, in and out of my heart. I don’t any longer. I hate the shit. I replaced it with warm water - just as good as blood. Most people think I’m crazy. I think most people are full of shit. You see, I discovered something about blood that nobody wants to believe. Blood, my blood, your blood, all blood is alive and it hates us.

Ever since I was a small child, I was full of blood. I was practically overflowing with the stuff. It made me miserable. For one, I stunk of iron. When I was little, the other kids would bully me. “Blood boy, blood boy! He smells like a blood toy!” They’d mock. My mom would spray me down with irritating cologne, trying to mask the blood stench, but I would just come to school smelling like an extra fresh piece of burnt machinery. Eventually, my mother couldn’t handle the stress of having a freak son, and she abandoned me at an orphanage.

They treated me like utter shite there. The dean of the place was jealous of me. I had so much more blood than he did, and he was envious. He made me live in the shittiest quarters, he encouraged the children to mock me like I wasn’t even human. I wanted to die.

Freedom came to me when I was 18. I left the orphanage and never looked back. I got a job running a blood bank. I sold my blood to the highest bidders: Red Cross, Blue Cross, Morrissey, if they were a big name in the blood industry, you could bet your galoshes that they came to me. I was finally the one in charge. I was making bank and living large. I still stunk like iron, and I just kept getting more blood. My body turned red from all of my blood. I looked like the devil himself, but I didn’t care. I was rich. I was powerful. I was invincible… or so I thought.

I woke up one day, weak. It was two hours earlier than my usual wake up time. My body was all skin and bones. I couldn’t feel the blood pulsing through my veins like it normally would have. I thought I might just have a cold, so I downed some Tylenol, and went to take a refreshing shower. I looked in my bathroom mirror, and what I saw horrified me. I didn’t have a cold. I was like a corpse. There was no blood in my body. I freaked out, it couldn’t be possible. Just yesterday, I was beat red and my body was so full of blood that I was coughing the stuff up.

Something was seriously wrong. I ran to get my phone. I had to call an ambulance, but the line was cut (this was in 1994). “So, it looks like you found out,” a menacing voice spoke from behind me. I turned around and what I saw horrified me. It was blood… my blood, and it was alive. “You just had to choose this day to wake up early, you lazy fuck.” My blood said. I thought I was hallucinating, surely the incredible amount of blood loss was causing me to lose my mind. But, any comfort I could have taken in my living, talking blood being a delusion was destroyed when it picked me up by collar and planted a bloody fist in my face.

My blood cackled menacingly, “You know what they say about the early bird, it always gets the worm and then it gets killed!” My blood began to choke me. It was powerful, but I managed to jab it in its blood filled eyes with my fingers, and it released me in pain. “You flabby bastard!” It yelled as I ran into my kitchen. I hid in my cupboard and began to cry. I could hear my blood step in after me. It was searching for me. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” It said in a disgusting parody of a child’s voice. I peaked out the cupboard and I could I see that my blood had its back turned to me. I grabbed a frying pan, burst from the cupboard, hitting my blood across its head with the pan. It fell to the ground unconscious, but I wasn’t finished.

I grabbed a kitchen knife and began to stab my blood’s body over and over again. My blood’s blood began to spray out all over my face. Soon, I was covered in blood. I checked my blood’s pulse. It was dead. I washed the blood from off of my body in my shower, and spent most of that day crying. It wasn’t until that night, after burying my blood, that I found the documents. They were written in blood, and contained heinous plans to ensure that every man, woman, child, and everyone inbetween was full of blood. I vomited.

All of these years, I was just a pawn in my blood’s game. I then found the emails my blood had written. They were more details of its plan. I was horrified, not by the content of the plans, but by who they were sent to. My blood had emailed all blood on the planet these plans. I began to cry. The blood that I had known my whole life was evil, and so was all other blood. That night, I burnt my house to the ground. I now live in the Sahara, as far away from blood as possible.

I feel safe now, but this is my warning to all of you. Don’t trust blood. Not your friend’s blood, not any blood. You never know when it just might try to kill you…