Me @ the majority of how 2018 went

Me:

the bad news:

sometimes you will be lonely. sometimes the world will become an open wound and you will feel as if you are its blood, simply spilling out into the surface of cold skin. sometimes the nights won’t be easy. sometimes the mornings will spit on your face instead of kiss your limbs. sometimes the tears stop and there will be nothing more for you to feel. sometimes you will look for yourself in places no one can ever live— badlands, glass bottles, human lips. sometimes your bones will not be strong enough. sometimes you will fall.

the good news:

there will come a time when someone becomes the home in every place you thought had no road to travel upon. there will come a time when the world will become an open heart and you will feel as if you are its blood, rushing headfirst through a body that is magnificently alive. the nights will be screaming off of rooftops and long, long, car rides, with the wind rushing through your hair and your hand riding the wind. the morning will lose itself in your body and the sun will make love to you. the time will come when you will know what it is like to weep for joy. there will come a time when you will find yourself in the places you were always meant to reside— the wideness of the skyline, the arms of your mother, human souls. there will come a time when your bones will hold you steady instead. there will come a time when you will rise so high you will forget the ground ever kissed you.

— bad news first (ap 12.15.18)

i.

The light in your eyes is not the street lamp that will guide me home. All of my friends tell me I make decisions too quickly for my own good, leave people too soon, but I’ve always believed love isn’t a sensation you can think through. You only feel it or you don’t. It’s either there or it’s not, it either exists like a fire in the darkest night your eyes have ever seen or never alighted at all. I’ve tried to run from that truth, I’ve tried to bury myself in arms that felt more like coffins than they did bedsheets. I tried to suffocate so you can breathe, I tried to drown myself because the you wanted me to become a part of your ocean so badly and I could never tell you “no”. I tried. And I tried. And I tried. But everything inside of me yearns for something more. Maybe there is so much darkness inside of me that I crave for the brightest of fires, something that will tear the fabric of my soul apart, but deep down I know you never managed as more than a flicker within me— not because you weren’t enough, but because you believed loving me was a habit instead of a revolution.

ii.

I am so much more than a “good morning” text or compliments I could find on Instagram posts. I am so much more than what you thought I needed to remain comfortable. Fuck, love is so much more than remaining comfortable. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what love is supposed to feel like, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like being trapped. Deep down, I know I am meant for something greater than affection that reeks of routine and the fear that I’ll never find anything better. Love isn’t supposed to be a chore. Love isn’t supposed to feel like passing the time. Love isn’t supposed to be mediocre. Life is too short, too full, too beautiful to be populated by regular love and lovers who cannot understand that affection is more of a revolution than an emotion. I am sorry if I am asking for too much, but I would kill myself before I allow the fires that reside within me to slowly dim in light of an affection that never burned bright enough. I’m sorry women like me don’t come with warning signs, but I pray someday someone will fall in love with me due to the flames alone.

— ap (12.18) loving me was a revolution but you never learned how to handle fire

FUCKINH STOP

If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?