Love

Why’s it gotta be weird?

Love is the center of human bonding. It’s what kept us warm during the ice age.

Humans are just water sacks that cry too much, and yet every time we have an emotion, we whip and berate ourselves, call ourselves weak.

Love is one of the strongest things I’ve ever felt. Acting out of love, especially consistently, it’s hard work. It’s emotional stamina.

I have been in love at least three times. Once with my best friend, then with my last boyfriend, and now with a bo-ho artsy bitch. Whose eyes are too much like the destined sea. And whos touch makes a promise the man could never keep. Stupid boi.

As strong as love is, there’s other shit happening. I don’t need to lose my mind because I care about other people. I don’t need to focus all day on this other person. I can just enjoy them. I can let the love make me stronger. Banish my demons. Be a new light bulb in my creative space.

I used to think love was worth everything, my life, my freedom, agency, self respect. It was worth every sacrifice. There was no other reason to live. That’s a fragile place to live. I refuse to be that fragile. To let love take over like a parasite again. Love is chill. I’m here for it. But I also need to be reading and writing. Going to karaoke, making new and meaningful friendships. Doing things I enjoy. I need a full life.

But on days when I’m suicidal, I don’t have love as a good reason to keep fighting. Which is great because I don’t want to depend on people like that. But what else is there some nights?

I can be in love and still do other shit. I can be in love and be chill with that person. Because the only person I’m hyper focused on in my life right now, is me.

And I need to be in love with me.  

Love is great. But I’m a busy bitch.

~~ ❤ ~~ ❤ ~~ ❤ ~~

Remember to communicate clearly with everyone. About who you are. About what you love. About what makes you feel safe and heard. Communicate. People don’t know until you tell them.

And don’t fucking let anyone tell you that women’s voices don’t carry. We carry weapons of mass de-fucking-struction.  

Eat men’s egos for breakfast and dicks for dinner.

Yeet