It surprises me when people say that, they’re in constant pursuit of excellence but it seems to be excluding them for no reason known to them, and end up justifying it in the same sentence with things like, “Maybe I’m just not good enough/not tall enough/not smart enough.” And I can’t help but wonder that the only thing excellence does for herself is love herself, she sits in the corner with dreams in her eyes and knows that she and only she can make them happen.
You can’t live like this. Stop. Crack this nutshell. Take a moment and sit with your own self. It’s hard but you’ve to do it. Let yourself crave for oxygen. Cry for an unreasonable number of hours. Hug yourself in the helplessness of it all. Sleep. Try breathing again. Let your irrational fears crawl up your spine. Embrace the void. Do not watch television or go out drinking or have sex. Take a moment. Get as scared and as helpless as you can in this moment.
Now rise. Cry again. Live. Smile.
Let your consciousness run free. Connect to the universal energy of pure love and brilliance. You’re infinite.
Write. Decide it’s horrible and scrap it all off.
Write again. Tear it apart.
Write again. Stare at it and cry. Howl.
Fucking make something of everything.
Dew drops and rust.
Star dust and fairy lights. Be it all and nothing.
Stop acting so small.
Find strange things on lonely nights that appeal to the lesser known parts of you.
Cry out to the lesser known dimensions.
Gently observe smoke rings pulling out residues of your soul, gradually whispering desperate calls to the divine.
Be suicidal or hopeless or depressed.
Wear secrets and skins and scents that soothe you in these weak moments. Save emergency contacts. Eat 2 extra buckets of chocolate ice-cream. Fucking rescue your goddamned self.
Do not be ashamed.
Let it all hurt so bad, that each part of you prays to be ripped apart. Degrade yourself. Look at the floor with blood in your eyes. Let the mess you’ve made kill you all over again. A little harder than last time. Let your slit wrists bleed unapologetically and beat your demons so hard they dread coming back. Let them come back. Look at them.
Kill them again. Cry.
Run away from everything familiar.
Wake up in an estranged town and go for a meal all by yourself.
Don’t be so fucking scared of your own self, of your own goddamned brilliance. Excellence, peace and happiness, are your natural states of being. Don’t lose out on the tiny significance details that make you YOU.
You might have been told otherwise,
but this universe is your wish granting factory,
if you wish with all your feisty heart.
Smoke weed with your demons. Miss the morning cup of tea, that sense of certainty and regularity. Remember destruction precedes invention. Make something of everything. Do not be afraid. Everything comes and goes. Go live.
Let him insert his entire hand into you, and nibble at your restless sheath. Know what invasion feels like.
You’re a void. What can anyone take away from your anymore?
Write shit. Smoke up. Lie. Betray. Learn. Fucking grow. Stop being so comfortable being where you are. Be a lost ship and your own lighthouse. Embrace beauty and terror alike. Do whatever the fuck you need to do to undo years of ripping apart. Heal.
Get your heart broken to a million irreparable pieces, and make a deliberate decision to love again, and to keep loving, till it can hurt just the same.
Don’t say a determined pre-conceived “no” to experiences. Be open to life. All your cells work for you day in and day out.
Build. Construct. Reconstruct. Rejuvenate. Live.
Embrace the terror that disrupts your slumber.
Masturbate to Beatles. Sleep to your most anxious dreams.
Let the stars love every ounce of you. Sit with the void lingering large in your little body. Rather, be the void. Let people drain you, consume you, just the same.
Mary the night with all it’s secrets; majestic, obnoxious, horrifying, unstoppable.
You’ve got you!
You’ve got you!
Go the fuck out and love. Go live despite it all.
You’re infinite. Right now!