Never get stuck.
Stuck in your mind.
Stuck behind closed doors that aren’t locked.
Stuck in suffocating webs woven of fear and doubt.
Stuck gripping tight to ropes holding you down rubbing your skin raw.
Stuck inside a fortress with your claw marks left on the stones.
We’re untouchable there.
But that might mean staying trapped for all eternity..
weaving a path straight to hell from the trace and retrace of our own footsteps.
It’s safe in the familiar, in the comfort, in the known.
We get lost in our rabbit holes.
To other people it’s a maze, to ourselves a simple and known path.
And sometimes to ourselves it’s madness, to others a common kind of sense.
Like “yeah, I’m right here with you buddy but on my own path,
but the same path,
the path of comfort and familiarity, the safe one.”
We don’t ever stray.
We let no one in.
We walk there and only there, endlessly.
We believe things are the way they are because they have been beat into our heads,
by our own selves and by others.
Don’t drink that koolaid.
Don’t go out like that.
We’re all meant for so much more.
So if you choose to escape,
and you begin your descent down the wall,
because let’s be honest,
no one is coming up to rescue you because you need to save yourself,
then don’t ease from the tower walls slowly and surely,
hack that thick tail of a braid mane off with a machete and let yourself go.
Go on, cut that shit and drop.
Fucking drop I said.
Who cares if you jack yourself up on the way down?
A tree branch slap to the face here, a gash to the arm there,
a hard landing on the ground below with a thump and a roll…
and okay, maybe, a concussion.
The point is you let go.
You took a chance, weighed the risk, and didn’t care if it was heavy.
You found yourself wanting.
You found it to be worth the letting go, worth the fall.
It’s not meant to be easy.
It’s not meant to be pretty.
It might bring a world of hurt down upon you.
Or what if…
what if your prison was surrounded by a moat of marshmallows
and you land in the fluffy goodness of what was waiting for you all along?
Or it could be the year 2085..
where lots of awesome people are floating around on hovercrafts,
and they don’t let you fall.
Instead, they let you in and ride right beside you,
until you’re close enough to the ground to land on your feet.
Or, you land on your feet anyways because you are a cat.
And cats always land on their feet.
My darlings, the moral of this story is:
The kind of happy that radiates from your being like a sunbeam, bursting.
The kind of love that settles in your bones and courses through your veins, transfusing.
How in the mother fuck are you supposed to experience that if you don’t let go???
Live like you mean it.
Love something fierce and wild.
Get a little reckless, take some chances, make some bets, go all in.
You never know when the last grains of sand in your hour glass will drop.