Finessing my way through my feelings has always been easy, well until now.
Quitting cigarettes and alcohol’s numbness left me dumb, and the opposite of a hustler.
It made me fragile, open to the possibility of vulnerability, tenderness, real naked feelings that have been stripping me down like a stripper does on the pole; but again I am not a hustler anymore.
I can’t ease my way into this, nor I should; my body is now demanding me to let go of outdated and preconceived notions that I thought were representative of myself, and finally indulge in the beauty of humanness, of rawness.
Gentle touches and heart shaped smiles have become my midnight cravings as I pick up the tears I have been shedding in the name of liberation.
The word freedom encompasses every each of my desires, and as I unsettlingly turn in my bed, in the middle of the night; in the middle of my bed sheets I realise I am finally granting myself that, freedom.
Freedom to feel, and explore and dream, beyond my job, beyond what I thought I wanted but simply closer to what my heart lingers to and to what my soul propels towards. I am no longer bereft.
I am drenched in possibility, as I bathe myself into openness and vulnerability.
I pat the fluids off and I see what a gift I have just been granted, and how I wish to share this gift with the world.
With the people and the communities who are being deprived of any means of possibility, whose vulnerability is constantly bruised as they attempt to preserve an inch of dignity. Compassion.
Thank you.