Dear Self

Dear Self,

If you are going to survive in this world you need to possess a sense of self which supports its own evolution. You are not a definition in a text book. You are not a checklist. You are not limited by the opinions of others. You are dynamic. Organic. Once in a lifetime. 

Do you really want to let your pride prevent you from being happy? Is being right really that important? Is maintaining a certain image more important than the freedom that comes through genuine acts of self-expression? Do you really need affirmation for what your heart knows to be the truth? Would you rather spend your life telling beautiful lies to a room full of critical strangers or would you rather live a beautiful life rubbed raw by the naked truth? I know that sometimes it hurts having a heart but know this a heart is never a cage when open. So if someone or something intrigues you explore it if you can.

If you have to be something, be weird. Be you. Not everyone is going to read your story. Not everyone that you invite into your life is going to accept the invitation. Some people might even question your motives but as long as you know that your intentions were good, then there is nothing to fear in it. There are going to be plenty of people who simply don’t get you. That’s okay. You are no less you, for a misunderstanding. You are no less you in the face of rejection. Never be ashamed of yourself for feeling. Love lest of all. Love is too beautiful to fill with doubt.

I want to remind you of a story. For most people this would be an embarrassing story but not for you. This story marks a pivotal moment in your emotional development. In the 6th grade you fell in love for the first time. There you were sitting across from your crush for some dreaded/not so dreaded group work laughing and chatting like it was no big deal. Sometimes even shy girls have days where they lose themselves in the moment. You were laughing when it happened but not loud enough. You farted and everyone heard it. Now you could have denied it, you could have run crying out of the classroom, you could have passed along the blame, you could have froze but no. You looked that boy straight in the face and you said “That was me. I farted.” And then you busted out laughing. Not that self-conscious laughter either but deep belly laughter. Everyone in group laughed. Not at you but with you and just like that it was forgotten and never mentioned again by your classmates. Your crush though was pretty impressed. There is something liberating about owning yourself. You see relationships come and go. But you have to live with yourself day in and day out. Spiritually. Emotionally. Physically. What hurts isn’t peer rejection. It is rejection of the self. So the next time someone takes a hard pass remember that I still have your back.


Dear Self

Love exists. A love beyond love. A love so extraordinary that it completely redefines intimacy. This isn’t a love that can be translated by your fragile human ego so don’t even bother. This love probably won’t follow a traditional course. Be prepared to be surprised. Be prepared to be triggered. Be prepared to have your life turned inside out and upside down. Whatever you think you know about relationships doesn’t necessarily apply here. Seduction won’t work. Beautiful words won’t work. Gifts won’t work. For this to work you have only to be yourself. Good news for you because being yourself is what your best at!

I know this wasn’t what you were expecting when you asked the universe to infuse a little magic into your life. When you asked the universe to show you the depths of human intimacy. When you asked, teary-eyed, to learn to trust again. When you asked to go on a spiritual journey of healing. You couldn’t have known that this inexplicable/out of nowhere love would dismantle your life, your sense of self, your entire system of beliefs.

I bet you never expected to be crying over the photograph of a stranger because you found in that beautiful face a profound sense of purpose. I remember how surprised you were when you saw him and recognized him as yourself. When you knew him without knowing him. When his name just popped into your mind even though you had never heard/seen it before. I bet you never expected that the presence of that person within your heart and soul would hit you harder than an orgasm (that you would actually prefer the sense of him to an orgasm!). I bet you never expected that when you found the love of your life that that love would play out in your dreams before it materialized/manifested in your waking life.

I am sure you think you’ve gone fucking mad. I know you have seen the signs/the impossible coincidences/the synchronicities. I know that you want something concrete. I know you are searching for proof. I know how much you want to be held, to have the confirmation that even a simple hello might afford and I know it feels unfair at times. Well get over it. The ego is always focused on absence/appetite/satiation. Focus instead on gratitude/on all that you have going for you. You have a lot going for you, more than you know.

I am not talking about unrequited love here but if you want to be loved, you are going to have to love yourself first. Take care of yourself so you don’t completely wear yourself out. Fill yourself with love first and there will be plenty to share. You might be reading this thinking I am speaking about self-love. I am speaking about self-love but I am also speaking of unconditional love. You’re not wrong. You’re not crazy. This inexplicable love you are feeling is real. He really does have a beautiful soul. I know that you can feel it. Trust that feeling. Your beloved is a real flesh and blood person. You are worthy of him/of the connection. I wish I could give you an instruction manual to ease the discomfort of the particulars. I wish I knew the answers. I wish I had the “proof” you wanted/needed right now. All I can say is that you are living that proof because you love him, because loving him is the greatest gift.

Wordle #197

Wordle 197

My lips stumble
under a blood orange sky.
My bruised and blessed breath
breaks apart in repetition.
You plow me like a field,
patient until bursting.
I swallow your seed,
your vox populi,
your furnace full of stars.

I am a beautiful way to drown.
The ocean in you
feeds the ocean in me.
I will always find a place for you,
a place where everything
is taken whole
and nothing is rejected.

I watch your lips sulking
beneath a blameless horizon
our silhouettes eerie in the half-light,
our silhouettes throbbing hot
like a meteor shower.

my writing is still off