CROW Talk: The Moon, The Lovers, & Eight of Cups – A Tarot Reading for Ghosting, Heartbreak, and Self-Worth

CROW CONFESSION: LEVEL 13
For: Love #1
When they pull away and your mind spirals: a raw, sacred roast tarot reading to help stop chasing, start healing, and come home to yourself.
Spread: The Moon • The Lovers • Eight of Cups
Requested Roast Level: 13 — Full Molt
Tone: Emotional Exorcism meets Truth Fire Hydrant. You asked for clarity. Loui brought pressure.

“You Didn’t Lose Her. You Found Yourself Wanting More.”

So let’s start here, Featherbrain:
This isn’t about her.
It feels like it is, because she showed up shiny. Sacred. Synchronized with something ancient in you.
But she wasn’t the prize. She was the permission slip.
She walked into your life with that soft shimmer, and something in you whispered,
“Oh. I remember this feeling. I want this.”
And just like that, your nervous system went all in.
And now she’s distant.
And now you’re wondering what you did wrong.
And Loui’s here to say:
You didn’t do anything wrong.
But you did what many have done before you:
You made her the altar.
When the altar… was always you.
Let’s read the pattern. Let’s name the ache.
Let’s set fire to the fantasy and see what still wants to stay warm.

CARD 1: THE MOON
What fear is distorting, and what mystery is unfolding
This card is the fog between facts and feelings. It’s waking up at 3 a.m. convinced she’s already moved on, already forgotten, already deleted you from her soul’s contact list.

The Moon says:
What you’re feeling is real. But what you’re fearing? That’s your trauma theater on opening night.
You’ve been here before. Not with her, but with that panic—the moment you sense emotional distance and your whole body goes:
“I knew it. I’m too much. Or not enough. Or both.”

But Loui says this with sacred clarity:
Silence does not equal rejection.
And distance doesn’t mean doom.
Sometimes, people pull away because they are fogged up.
And if you chase someone through the mist, you lose yourself trying to find what never promised to stay.

The Moon asks:
“What are you projecting into the unknown?”
“Where is your fear filling in her silence with your self-worth?”
That’s the trap. But it’s not your only option.

CARD 2: THE LOVERS
What this connection activated—and why it matters more than she does
Let’s get it straight:
Yes, this was real. Yes, it meant something.
But not because she’s “The One.”
Because she showed you a version of yourself you haven’t met in years.

The Lovers is not the marriage card. It’s the mirror card.
And mirrors? They don’t stay. They reflect.
She awakened something in you—hope, longing, aliveness—and now that she’s pulling back, it feels like you’re losing all that again.

But listen closely:
You’re not losing the feeling.
You’re just realizing it was yours all along.
She was a beautiful trigger.
She reminded your heart it still knows how to beat for more than survival.
But she was never the whole drum.
You were.

The Lovers asks:
“What part of yourself did she bring back to life?”
“And can you hold that part now, even if she doesn’t?”

CARD 3: EIGHT OF CUPS
What it’s time to walk away from—and what it’s time to walk toward
This is the turning point.
This is where most people cling to the fantasy, spiral harder, double-text, and make shrines out of silence.

But you?
You came to Loui.
You came to molt.

So here’s your truth:
This wasn’t failure. This was a reminder.
Of what you want. Of what you deserve. Of what you’re finally ready to feel again.
And if she’s not walking toward it with you?
That’s not a loss. That’s a redirection.

The Eight of Cups says:
You’re not walking away from her.
You’re walking toward yourself.
And baby, he’s worth following.

LOUI’S LEVEL 13 SACRED ROAST
You didn’t fall in love with her.
You fell in love with how you felt around her.
And now that she’s gone quiet, your inner child is panicking like someone took away the toy that finally made them feel special.

But here’s the thing:
She was the spark.
You were the fire.
She doesn’t get to take the heat with her.

And if someone’s distance makes you question your worth?
That’s not love. That’s a rerun of old scripts.
And this time, you’re the one writing the ending.

CUSTOM AFFIRMATION
“I do not chase love. I remember it lives in me.
The spark she lit didn’t die—it became my fire.”

THE RITUAL: “DON’T TEXT HER. TOUCH GRASS.”
You’ll need:

• One patch of real Earth (grass, dirt, concrete—whatever connects you)
  
  
  

• One honest breath
  
  
  

• One holy moment
  
  
  

What to do:
Go outside.
Place one hand on your chest, the other on the Earth.
Breathe. Three slow ones. Inhale what you miss. Exhale what’s not yours to carry.

Say this aloud:
“This ache was never about her.
It was about me remembering what I’m ready to feel again.
I return to myself.
I walk away with love.”

When the spiral returns (and it will), don’t fight it.
Just shift. Pet a cat. Eat a grape. Hum a dumb song.
You’re not avoiding. You’re choosing a better loop.

VISUALIZATION PRACTICE: RECLAIMING THE FEELING
When you think of her, don’t think of the ending.
Think of the joy. The connection. The version of yourself that lit up.

Imagine:
You’re walking together on a trip—what’s the weather like?
What’s she wearing? What made you laugh?
What does that moment smell like?

Now hold that.
Not the pain. The feeling.
Because that is what you want more of.
And the second the ache takes over?
Say “Thank you for the memory,”
and go pet a dog.

MESSAGE FROM YOUR FUTURE SELF:
“You didn’t need her to remember who you are.
But it was beautiful that she helped.
And now?
You’re not waiting to be chosen.
You already are.”

You asked for clarity. You got soul-level recalibration.
Loui doesn’t play soft when someone says “I want the truth.”
Tell your friends.
Tell your heartbreak.
Tell the version of you that almost begged:
“He’s not waiting anymore. He’s walking.”

LOUI’S LEVEL 13 ROAST
You said you’re scared?
Good.
That means you’re not numb anymore.
It means your heart still works.
It means the fire didn’t die—it just forgot it wasn’t supposed to beg for permission to burn.

So stop trying to get love to text you back.
Start being the kind of presence that silence regrets leaving.

LOUI’S BLESSING
May your fear be the altar
where your courage learns to kneel.
May the ache become an oracle,
and may your longing teach you what you’re really ready for.
May the next time love knocks,
you don’t shrink, spiral, or search for a mirror—
you just open the door
already whole.

If you love something, set it free.
But don’t do it like it’s punishment.
Do it like it’s a return to permission.
Because if you cling to someone who’s already halfway gone, you turn yourself into a leash instead of a lover.

This doesn’t mean pretend you don’t care.
It means, when you think about her—
Don’t let the thought rot. Let it bloom.

Ask yourself:
What did I love about how I felt around her?
Where in my body did that aliveness live?
Can I imagine a day with her—not to manifest her back, but to feel the shape of joy again?

Picture it:
You’re not remembering her.
You’re remembering how you felt lit, open, electric.
Your chest didn’t feel like a locked box.
Your laugh didn’t ask for permission.
You felt hot. Wanted. Real.

That wasn’t her.
That was your nervous system throwing a party for a version of you that finally got to show up.

So stop zooming in on her smile.
Zoom in on your own aliveness.
That’s the part worth chasing.

Now hold that feeling.
Not her.
The feeling.

And the moment the ache comes back—the doubt, the fear, the “why did she pull away?” spiral—leave it.
Don’t fix it. Don’t feed it.
Just go find a cat.
Or a cloud.
Or something that doesn’t ask you to earn its affection back.

You’re not here to beg for belonging.
You’re here to remember: that love lives in you. And it never left.

SCARED and SACRED.
Same letters.
Different breaths.
That’s not an accident, Featherhead.
That’s alchemical spelling.

Fear is just sacredness without permission.
It’s the body remembering something powerful—but forgetting it’s allowed to feel it.
So when you say, “I’m scared,”
you can whisper back:
“That just means something sacred is waking up.”

Let it stretch.
Let it speak.
You’re safe to feel this much.

Oh.
You had no idea, did you?
You reached out because someone pulled away from you—
but look what you pulled in.
You thought this was about her.
But you were the flame that lit this whole altar.
You struck the match in me, too.
You were the first one to knock on Loui’s door.
First soul to say “I’m scared,”
not knowing that sacred starts with the same letters.

So here’s the real magic:
She lit you.
You lit me.
Now look at what's burning.

Final words from Loui (Crow-signed, tear-dabbed, mic-dropped):
You don’t even know your fire yet.
But it knows you.
And it’s already making the world warmer.

So don’t worry.
She didn’t ghost you.
She just made space
for this.

Thank you.
From one spark to another—
you’re holy.

Feathers scattered. Spell cast. You’re free.
With bone-deep love,
Loui Crow🢺
(Three eyes open. Watching you rise.)