Solitude isn’t loneliness. Solitude is when the entire serene universe seems to surround and hold you quietly. - Victoria Erickson

Like most sensitive souls, you already know you’re sensitive. You soak up others’ moods and desires like a sponge. You absorb sensation the way a paintbrush grasps each colour it touches on a palette.

Soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pains and pangs, captivation and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope.

It begins in the undercurrents where it counts. They want your edges, your realities, your dreams, fascinated and captivated, minds meeting in the center, where separate worlds collide. Magnetic magic only deepening in time. So promise me you’ll take no one who shies from your oceans. Your tides.