Not Wanting to Die is AWESOME

(the title of this post is meant to be read  in the voice of Alana aka miss “honey boo boo child“)

Oy, who’s ready for another overly emotional and highly personal post? ME!

Alright so this is gonna be rambly and all over the place as per the ussssssuuuaaallll. (Wow I’m in a really fucking good mood by the way. Let’s just get that out now.)

So Yesterday/LastNight, I feel like I had a visit from the Magi, from the best of Dicken’s Three Ghosts and from the best magic 333 could ever provide.

Here’s how I categorize the three for me, you know, from last night.

1) The Sister/Friend

2) The Disheveled Muse

3) The Semi-drunk Sage

Dinner and drinks with the badass beautiful leggy Sister/Friend went well. Felt somewhat rushed but not because of us, because of the restaurant and city around us. This chick, I could talk with/to/about/around her for hours, days even, you know until it was just way too much awesomeness. Needed to see her and be in that energy. She knows about real gay stuff ya’ll, like real dirty queer shit and she schools me on the thangs I don’t know. It’s not just things I don’t know though. It’s also the things I’m afraid to admit I don’t know or that I’ve got issues with like: GYNs, planned parent hood, sex work, the awfulness of machismo attitudes, latex gloves for sex, polyamory, me wondering why gays need so many goddamn labels, lady boots: LIFE SHIT.

she’s one of the one that shines the light. So I got shined ya’ll.

Kinda like in ATL when dude is like:

“I call you “sun” cuz you shine like one”

As for the Disheveled Muse, well all I can really say is that it’s important to notice things. Notice under lit trees in Union Square. Notice smell of fertilizer and damp air permeating nostrils and skin cells. Notice that the moon is in hiding. Share what you notice and make note of it. Breathe. Let out the nervous laughter and know when to say good night.

AND THEN the semi-drunken sage.

Semi-drunken Sage says: To recover from tainted love (ooohhh tainted love), one must bleed out the woman. (swoon over those being his actual words…)

ONE MUST BLEED OUT THE WOMAN. fuck yes. perfect. jeezus christ. how did i just happen to literally trip over you in the park last night and these are the words you had for me motherfucking genius ass bearded nigga love you.

Semi-drunken Sage Says: Bleed her out then regress to state of existence pre-her with all knowledge gained from post-her. It is possible. It will bring you to radiance.

(We took sips of his liquor. I made him laugh. We noticed the same pairs of miniskirts and legs walking by without breaking eye contact for too long.)

Went home on the number 5 train.

In doors by 12:05pm. Woke up this morning smiling. Smiling so hard I cried. Happy fucking tears. HAPPY TEARS. Do you know how long it’s been since I cried because I was fucking happy?

For too long, I’d been wishing something would just kill me already. Like my life weighed down by someone else’s addiction, my crippling insecurities, lack of hope, feelings of being trapped, nothing changing…all made me wish a fucking bus would just mow me down. I’d daydream about nooses and ten minutes alone. Daydream about not waking up. Daydream about the blissful fog of purgatory or even the warmth of hell…anything to get it over with, make it better or at least different. solidly different. I cannot express how awesome it is to not want to die anymore.

Happy might be fleeting, fer sure. I’m no fool. But damn it’s really nice to be on the upside of emotion. Waking up with happy tears, a smile, appreciation for life, joy that a bus didn’t take me down or that I didn’t do myself in somehow is epic.

I will bleed her/it/misery/self induced negativity/and all that other shit OUT.

Alright, time to keep it moving. Gotta send out a hot mess love care package to my dearest brotherprincess.

be well. be loved. just be, mang.

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