starrbabe.

You think you can hurt me?

I’m fucking invincible.

The universe keeps throwing lessons into my face, as it does. I’d never been one to give in to them, but lately i’ve been more willing to listen. Maybe it’s been gentler as a reward for my eagerness to learn, or maybe i’m more accepting of the pain because this time i’m paying attention to understand the stings rather than blindly suffer, only to deny it afterwards.

Last night i had a knife in my right thigh because all day I thought about why i was so scared of suffering. I didn’t die.

I thought i was too afraid to run so i always stumbled and fell and stayed on the ground for as long as life lets me, for as long as i could convince my conscious to indulge in the comfort… until curling up in bed became less bearable than the act of getting up or someone, life, dragged me by my ankles. I didn’t realize until now how good of a runner i am, only i am running in the wrong direction. Backwards. Into comfort. Into nostalgia. Into the safe, beautiful, itchy blanket of the certainty of the past. How difficult could it be, then, to just change course? How relieving is it to realize i don’t have to learn this supposedly inborn skill of running from scratch? All these years i’ve been mastering it. To my demise, maybe, but i’ve gotten pretty fucking pro at it and now, it’s only a matter of turning my body around and facing forward. The rest is my inborn skill. The thing i am the best at.

The lesson doesn’t end there, though. No. it never does. The beauty of the ordinary is the second thing i’ve been picking up from the good old papa universe. Not so fast though. I’ll get there.

Who knows, maybe you don’t have to run after all.

I focused so much on making this work that i forgot what compatibility actually feels like. I took all of my energy, molded it into a knife and used all of my waking thoughts into grinding it. I thought if it was sharp enough, nothing would keep me from preserving a good thing. My precious souvenir, my one and only, my once in a life time bond that was supposed to be the utmost fulfilling thing; my destiny, my final destination. I got too fixed on protecting it that i forgot to spare a glance at what i was preserving. I kept stabbing the bad parts screaming “this isn’t it!” all the while overlooking where they were coming from. It took days of keeping myself from throwing up to see that i’d been tearing and ripping my own guts apart. I kept poisoning myself to the point that the thought of the relationship, this precious thing, only made me nauseous.

“It was supposed to make me happy!” 

it didn’t though. 

I just went looking, 

“unknowingly” i would say if you asked me then, 

to find a perfect dummy for this dress to fit. But it never did.

My only point of comparison was what i had before, and if it managed to surpass them, even if it was by a small increment, it was more than enough to rush to commitment. 

“Commitment” i thought. It wasn’t though. 

I left myself out of the equation for so long and didn’t even realize it. Comparison itself isn’t a good point to take in as a criteria for choosing, i figured. 

It’s me. 

And them. 

And us together. 

Never did it occur to me that I could just roll with it and explore the relationship without my knife. 

Guards down. Grounded. 

I never got to know my precious thing without a fight. 

So a battle it became. 

I thought i wouldn’t but i lost it though.

Now i’m sinking my ships on command. 

Stopping to smell the roses.

And giving them to my people while they’re still here.