musings on committing to desires
instead of worrying about them
committing to things feels precarious. anything can happen. how can one possibly know? why can’t we leave the door open? just in case.
“what’s up?” “are we together?” “what’s your story?” “what do you mean?” “what do you do?” I shrivel like grapes on a forgotten vine.
I am observing how worry shifts
like desire
like seasons
first sense of the autumnal shift is the most poignant of the year [for me]. though I know, on the farm later this week, temperatures will reach the 100s.
nothing lasts
everything changes
darn
thank god
the mornings are beginning to rise a little slower. this city depresses me. i cry. people around me praising gentrification. with no energy to argue, i sigh.
my friends don’t recognize this voice. i listen, but the new voice has nothing rational to say. I suppose if you want something to worry about, you’ll easily find it. then it will evolve into a newer, larger worry. again and again. The worries seem to shift in form, yet somehow continue to build upon each other. this goes on until you either lose your mind or let it all go.
Maybe this isn’t true for everyone (is this true for you?) but it has been my experience over the last several weeks. I’m exhausted but I can’t sleep for more than 4 hours a night. I declare to the gods that it is out of my hands so i release it! but if you ask me what’s wrong, i’ll crack and spill out all of the worries I claimed were out of my hands.
Ayana writes, How dare this world sell me a story of safety then make it too small to breathe inside of?1 and the words afford a fleeting moment of oxygen in the form of validation before I am, once again, gasping for air.
My fear is not of change, nor of the unknown. Quite the contrary! I desire change. I desire fluidity. I lust for surprise. I welcome the new. Many of my fears have already happened, but they never held me hostage because I was moving with the momentum of freedom. however now I am living one of my biggest fears. and I can hardly breathe. my environment is not mine. Immobile in a place I always want to escape. Painfully bored at things that “look fun” on social media, bored at gatherings, but never bored alone. Watching the space between me and the people I used to know grow wider and wider until I run out of material to build a bridge. Like my environment, I am not living up to my potential. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. But I also don’t feel free.
Mostly my desires are simple, almost primal, but there are also ones I don’t have the language for yet.
earthly but not material. i don’t have many things. i cannot carry many things. i am of small stature, limited space. my desires aren’t all that specific. they look like scenes and settings. they are feelings. they also look like people, people I love, but not necessarily specific people.
Ayana speaks on embodying the world she is building, A world where I gave myself permission to live out the multitudes boiling in my body — thrashing with desire to be released. What if your desire became more powerful than your fear?
What if your desire became more powerful than your fear?
What if…your desire became more powerful than your fear?2
I am depressed because the multitudes boiling in my body— trashing with desire to be released have nowhere to go. I am living in a limited world, but is this world just a projection of my own internal perception? is it a test of patience?
they claim I don’t have to always burn it all down to begin anew
but I’ve yet to find another method that fortifies as effectively.
tell me, am I failing the test?
extra! extra! read all about it!
our 2nd ANTIWRITING GROUP: THIS SUNDAY [8.27.23] at 7PM EDT !
the first one was so intimate and lovely. I am looking forward to the next one. If you’re new and would like to RSVP then simply reply here with your email. I will send you a meeting link closer to time. 🌼 see you babes on Sunday
same as above