Reclaiming the space. The space in my brain. The space which is integral to my creative endeavors (e.g., everything) and overall experience of the world, the space which is rightfully mine and enables me to gravitate towards the other cool-ass motherf@#kers oscillating on that higher wavelength.
Last night I got to catching up with one of my besties and our conversation oscillated around the theme of endings– or rather, lack thereof. What is it about this day and age that encourages such half-ass tomfoolery? Especially in the realm of *relationships*? How can you ever really break with someone when they’re constantly raping your news feed? It’s getting damn near impossible to cultivate any sort of healthy distance with one’s exes thanks to social media. Thanks for that, social media.
Sometimes you just gotta Shut It Down. Away with the has beens. So long to the ‘what if’s’. Delete, delete, delete. We are talking literal, metaphorical, and metaphysical deletion here. All I know is that you never really can know so what’s the point of pretending you do? Letting the words drown out the actual actions is a waste of time; fabricating bullshit only leads to more bullshit, even when you’ve got the best of intentions. So either you’re going to play an instrumental part in my universe OR you can piss off, dear sir. Cheers, thanks.
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