Notesformysoulmate
My blogs
| Gender | Female |
|---|---|
| Industry | Science |
| Occupation | Registered Behavioral Therapist |
| Location | Milford, New Jersey , United States |
| Introduction | Notes For My Soulmate is a home for lyrical essays, mythic letters, and quiet truths — tracing the shape of love, lineage, grief, and becoming. Every word is a devotion to the ones who carry too much feeling and not enough language. This is where silence is honored, tenderness is sharpened, and stories are reclaimed. |
| Interests | My interests are the threads that weave the tapestry of my soul. Reading is my ritual, my gateway to other worlds. It’s where I lose myself and find myself again — where empathy expands and obsessions are fed. Every page is a mirror, a lesson, a seed. Writing is my vessel and my weapon. It’s where I grow strong while recounting doubt. It’s where I lay down what I cannot carry — hurt, sorrow, shame — so they live on the page and no longer in my chest. My words are proof that I survived. Creating is my alchemy. I turn the mundane into meaning, the ordinary into myth. Music is the rhythm of my heartbeat, the soundtrack to my dreaming, the echo of emotions I can’t always name aloud. Together, these passions form the symphony of my existence — each one a step closer to the love I seek and the wholeness I become. |
| Favorite movies | My favorite films are the ones that explore profound connection and the fight for something fiercely loved. The John Wick series may look like pure action on the surface, but beneath the choreography lives grief, devotion, rage, and undying love. As an empath, I avoid heavy emotional films — they cling to me, haunt me. But John Wick is different. His violence isn’t senseless; it’s a vow. A promise kept for a woman already gone, for a love that still lives inside him. His pain, his rage, his refusal to let go — all of it resonates. It reminds me that even in the darkest spaces, love can become our fiercest strength. That’s what I write toward, too: connection that endures through flame and silence. |
| Favorite music | Music, to me, is a language that bypasses logic and speaks straight to the heart. It isn’t about genre — it’s about the stories carried in lyrics and the pulse that echoes my own rhythm. A ballad that stirs memory, an electric beat that pulls my body into motion — each song becomes part of my unfolding. I’m drawn to music that mirrors the vulnerability, longing, and sensuality I pour into Notes for My Soulmate. Songs that shimmer with ache or rage or stillness become heartbeats in the story I’m living. This soundtrack doesn’t define me, but it reflects the moments I’ve survived, the softness I’m reclaiming, and the energy I’m inviting in. My playlist is less a collection and more a map — leading toward connection, self‑love, healing… and maybe even him. |
| Favorite books | Books are my sanctuary. Within their pages, I find versions of myself I didn’t know I was missing and echoes of a soulmate I’ve never met. A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness ignited my love of magic‑infused romance. The Three Date Rule by D.G. Whiskey taught me the beauty of anticipation and charm. The Legacy by Dylan Allen left me breathless in the best way. And then there are the authors who write the stories I can’t walk away from. Rosa Lee, Jill Ramsower, Neva Altaj, Anna Hackett, Elodie Hart, and Rina Kent craft worlds so potent that one book is never enough — I finish one and immediately reach for the next. Their stories don’t just entertain me; they consume me. I also adore the short, intense bursts of emotion from Hope Ford and Olivia T. Turner. Their stories may be brief, but they hit with a kind of immediacy and hunger that stays with me long after. I’m unapologetically drawn to books where intimacy meets emotional intensity. Romance, fantasy romance, and erotic romance are where I feel most at home. I read with hunger — not for escape, but for resonance. Every page is a touchpoint, every story a glimpse into the kind of connection I believe still waits for me. It’s not just love I crave. It’s truth, fire, devotion, and the courage to say yes to the kind of desire that heals. |
If you were a cannibal, what would you wear to dinner?
Barefoot, moonlit, wearing my grandmother’s silk robe and smeared lipstick like war paint. Elegance and entropy in equal measure.