Sometimes I don’t feel good enough…

Sometimes I don’t feel good enough…

Time is slipping away. Responsibilities piling up. As soon as there’s a moment to breathe, the urge to go - to move - to push - comes full force.

A mad love affair with the hustle. I choose her over everyone - even myself.

All of the things left undone are haunting me and pulling me deeper.. back into the black hole of..

Who knows?

But it’s cold and dark and damp down there, and it’s my least favorite place to be. Please don’t send me back there.

When does the silence finally break? When do the words finally flow? When is the next step finally revealed?

When? When?

I’m addicted to the rush, addicted to the feeling of ripping my heart from my chest and leaving it beating on the table in front of you.

Can’t get enough of the vulnerability of the human race.. tell me how it hurts, how you’re fucking things up..

Tell me so I can discover that, yes, we’re all constantly smashed into a million pieces, just trying to glue ourselves back together.

I’m a mess.
I’m a mess. 
I’m a mess.

The chaos is my every day, the turning of the tides is always, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What’s next?

Where do we go from here?

Let’s dance. Let’s go through and experience this magical gift of life and let’s do it our way.

Let’s rise together, blemishes and all, let’s not be afraid to share our weird AF personality, let’s proudly wear our CRAZY, and let’s rule this fucking world.

I love you bitches.