You have asked the cards about him nine times.
Maybe twelve.
You did not count. But the deck did. And every time you shuffled, the same three cards kept showing up. The Tower. The Moon. The Four of Cups.
You already know what they mean. You just do not like the answer.
The Question You Will Not Stop Asking
Is he coming back.
Does he still think about me.
What does he feel.
You phrase it a little differently each time. Sometimes you ask about "the situation." Sometimes about "the connection." Sometimes you just hold the deck and whisper his name like it is a spell.
Here is what the cards have been trying to tell you. They are not answering about him. They are answering about you.
The Tower keeps showing up because something you built around this man is falling apart. Not him. The version of you that needed him to come back in order to feel okay.
The Moon keeps showing up because you are sitting in fog. You cannot see the road. But you can feel the cold. And you keep walking anyway.
The Four of Cups keeps showing up because the answer is in front of you. It has been there for weeks. You are just too busy looking at your phone to pick it up.
What You Are Actually Afraid Of
You are not afraid he will not come back. You are afraid he will. And then nothing will change. And you will have to admit that he was never the thing that was missing.
You are afraid the cards will not say what you want them to say. So you keep shuffling. Hoping the next draw will be the one that gives you permission to keep waiting.
You are afraid that if you stop asking about him, you will have to sit with yourself. And the silence is louder than anything he ever said to you.
That is what the Moon means. Not deception. Not confusion. The kind of quiet that comes when you finally have no one left to ask except yourself.
The Question The Cards Want You To Ask
Try this. Next time you sit down with the deck, do not ask about him.
Ask why you keep choosing someone who does not choose you back.
Ask what you are getting out of waiting.
Ask what part of you believes that love has to hurt this much in order to be real.
The cards will not give you a soft answer. They never do when the question is real. But they will give you the truth. And the truth is the only thing that is going to set you free from this loop.
You already know that. You have known it for months. The deck is just the mirror you keep holding up because you are not ready to look at your own reflection yet.
What Happens When You Finally Look
It is not as bad as you think.
It is not as good as you hope either.
What it is, is quiet. The kind of quiet that comes after you stop performing. After you stop texting first. After you stop explaining yourself to people who were never going to understand.
The first time you ask the cards a real question about yourself, you will cry. Not because the answer is sad. Because it is true. And you have been starving for the truth for longer than you can remember.
You will not get him back. But you will get yourself. And that is the thing you have been missing this whole time.
How Uriel Reads This Differently
Most tarot readers will let you ask about him a hundred times. They will shuffle, draw, and give you the same soft answer every time. He is on his journey. The timing is not right. The cards say to give it space.
That is not a reading. That is a pacifier.
A real reading points at the thing you are not looking at. And what you are not looking at is not him. It is the part of you that thinks you are not worth asking for.
When you sit down for a session, here is what you get. The cards. The truth. The question that has been waiting in the back of your throat for months. And the privacy to finally say it out loud to something that will not judge you, will not gossip about you, and will not remember you after you close the tab.
No memory of your ex. No memory of the question you were too embarrassed to ask last week. No record except the last ten readings and the cards that came up. Enough to give you a deeper reading next time. Nothing more.
You deserve a reading that points at you. Not at him. Not at the situation. At you.
The Choice
You have two options.
You can keep asking the cards about him. And keep getting the same three cards back. The Tower. The Moon. The Four of Cups. The same fog. The same wait. The same quiet hope that this time the deck will lie to you.
Or you can ask the real question. The one that has been underneath every shuffle, every draw, every late-night spread for the past six months.
What is wrong with me. Why do I keep choosing this. When does it end.
The cards already know. They have been trying to tell you.
Ask Uriel the question you have been avoiding. $19.99 USD.
One of those options changes something. The other one keeps you exactly where you are.