You want to cuddle up to someone, give gifts to someone and get told wonderful things about you? About who you are as a person, at the very core? Do you want to feel loved like you are known? Do you want to be spontaneous with someone, to zip out the door on any day at any time and have that someone there? Do you want to have flowers and flames and hot chocolate and feel like you’re never going to be let go?
Then date fucking World.
Cuddle up to leafery and grass heaps. Roll down hills of green, through fields of brown. Give World the gift of your Life. Give It your all and listen to the beautiful reciprications. Listen to the wind, the birds and all the incredible sounds of your new partner. World.
Plan and don’t plan. World is here. As long as you’re living, you know it. And it knows you. Better than anyone else does. World loves you Don’t be lonely with it. Take It for walks and cart wheels. Take it for all the worth you know it is but won’t ever comprehend. Take the fucking World and make It Yours.
I tell you,
date the fucking World and let It’s love soak into your soul.
It’s really difficult to get a grip on life right now. It’s not stable. No matter how many moments I think it is. People affect your life in the extradionary amount that we most of the time, aren’t aware of. My heart turns three tomorrow. That’s my son. And I’ve been a terrible mother the past two months. This is such an airy vent-this post. These days,I’m kind of okay with losing everything, if it means I don’t have to feel about it. My own core person has its faults. We all do. I’m glad I can percieve mine in such a light, of workability. That i can put effort towards those strands of gunk and make them alright. I know the things I need to do. I know I’ve been post poning them. But now? Now I can’t do it much longer. After he’s three, well. I’m okay with letting it all out to where it needs to go. I know that’s whats been holding me back. I hate lying now. My guilt sucks me up into a basket of sick and my stomach doesn’t want anything to do with anything except alcohol. I am hurt and hurting and sick and sickening. I want to get better. But I am weak and I will crack. I’m a strong pants wearing relatiopnship person. Is what I always thought. I did end all the ones I was in. But that may mean nothing. I’m saying that I’m in a spot where I’m not okay with not being smpathized with. I’m not okay with always being the one to walk after the otherI. I wont be. I will not be in a relationship where that is a case. Whether its my parents, my son, my friends. That is not what I do. It has taught me a lot. To be in this position. It’s taught me about the yucky part of love. When you’re running out the doorr and you don’t even want to but you know it will make things better even if you’re the one folding…It taught me to fold. And folding is love, to me. I’ve never folded so much. And it sucks blood out of me, and blows courage into me. I have never been this real with myself.
This marks the first post of mine in October of this year.
In a few weeks my son turns three.
That fact waters the terrain of Emotional Motherland like no other. But that’s okay. That’s a rich feeling. That makes trees and grass and lakes. That makes for a beauty of a landscape.
I’m on more stable grounds. It feels good to rid yourself of every single thing of something you were apart of. I’d never done that so thourougly before.
I feel closer to pure than I have in awhile. I knew going through dark spaces was okay. Inside them thinking, I just want to feel the worst of it all right now. Because that feels the best.
And then you come out of that space and life looks a lot more clearer, feels a lot more cleaner and drives you to be a whole lot better.