The Choke Hold Of Possibility

Love, soulfood, your body

What is this thing that we do. We will let someone between our thighs, let them caress the parts of us that we would never expose in public. We will whisper the song of lust, desire and fantasy into their mouth gaped open in a resounding yes. But we won’t tell that same person how we feel about them. We wont say I like you and I don’t know what that means. We won’t say every night I lie in my bed reimagining the sensation of our bodies discovering and reciprocating. I won’t say that for a moment yesterday I slipped into a day dream about us having a cook out in our backyard, our kids playing tag weaving their lanky bodies between adults. One of us shouts hey be careful and then we lock eyes because truly this is what we’ve always wanted.

 

I can’t say any of that. I’m careful to not always be the one who instigates the text. I hold my breath every time that you say you’re on your way over. Still surprised when the door bell finally rings. Sometimes the butterflies will bubble up into my esophagus leaving me between dry heaves and fainting in anticipation, of your next word, the next time you kiss me on the top of my head, the next time.

I have no idea if there will actually be a next time.

Girl get your life together. This man knows nothing about you. Has no obligation to you. There’s a good chance that you terrify him. Hell there’s a good chance that you terrify you too.

So here we are. I inhale you like the air right after a rainstorm when you’re laying next to me. And I want to throw up every time that you text me. I hold my breath for thirty seconds and then I look. Exhale. I’m irrational and you never miss a beat.

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La Vida

Love, soulfood, therapy

Since this year began I have been very much confronted with the reality that all of this, absolutely all of this, is the curriculum of life. 

We have this sense that life happens along a timeline, that it’s linear at worst. The promise of an upward trajectory pinned to the lapel of every kindergartener in America, shoot for the stars lad.

Oh contraire said the universe. Life is at best a pendulum. The more that it reveals it’s truth to me I see that it works the exact same way that a slinky does in any sort of motion: unpredictably and likely to get into a miserable knot that will take you the whole car ride to Grandma’s house to undo. Despite everyone’s best efforts to pry, bend and mold you back to the shape that they think you should be you-I will always have those little bent parts that never go back together quite the same.

So, here we are just space and energy removed from our box marching down the stairs, bringing joy, innocence and the guarantee of frustration to the world. Things will get tangled and there you will be all bent out of shape, mastering your next move. Because that’s what you do- move.