The Fuck to My Gives

Attachment: the final toxin that’s so deeply embedded in my makeup, the ball to my chain, the fuck to my gives.

I keep asking myself how it’s even possible to love someone or something without having any kind of attachment to it and of course even if I find the right words, the doing part is always what holds one back.

I can’t fucking believe I’m about to put this in writing, but I’m really good at flipping the switch on my emotion button. Like so good that I sometimes scare myself. It’s a side of me that I’m not proud of and something I’ve been covering up since the moment I realized what it was…dangerous…to anyone and anything I’ve ever loved, including myself. It’s the most indestructable wall I ever built to avoid feeling pain. What kind of pure soul has narcissistic fucking tendencies (and swears as much as I do)? If you were to ask me what I thought about this method of living anytime before 2012 I would tell you it was simply perfection. When you can’t feel anything, nothing can hurt you. The kicker: when you can’t feel anything, you don’t remember what it’s like to live.

The day I turned that switch back on was the day my life actually started and the first tsunami ever hit my consciousness. Thing is I’ve always been afraid of what I cannot see and cannot logically understand. Aren’t most of us? So to circle back to my opening line: letting go of attachment to physical reality scares the shit out of me because who’s to say that feeling something without being able to see it is even real? What defines real anyway? Are our thoughts real? Are our emotions real? Are we real? Every single thing that is within us, surrounds us and interacts with us is perceptive. This, all of this, is as real as we believe it to be.

“Just be a tough act to follow. You know, a free spirit, with a wild heart”

Love xo



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