I didn’t get sober to play it safe, to take the easy way out, to not take risks, to not make every single day a new quest for buried treasure.
I didn’t get sober to sit around and think about how scary the future might be. I didn’t get sober to not embrace change, to make decisions based on fear, to not make decisions based on fear. I didn’t get sober to live in fear.
I didn’t get sober to not fulfill my purpose in this lifetime. To not discover what that purpose might be. To not be painstaking about what I fucking desire and who I fucking desire and what I fucking deserve and who I don’t fucking need around me anymore.
I didn’t get sober to feel sorry for myself, to listen to that ever-so subtle voice that says “you aren’t enough”. I didn’t get sober to wonder whether I am valued by the people in my life, to feel like I’m as important as what color socks you happen to put on this morning.
I didn’t trudge through a thousand foul fires of self-centered, self-loathing fears and make it through to the other side (against all odds) just to hear you say “I like you, buttttttttt…” I didn’t get sober for this shit.
I didn’t get sober to play games, to cut corners, to date the same people I dated when I was wasted and lonely and ashamed, to be the same person. To wonder if I’m making the right choice. To not trust myself. To settle.
I didn’t get sober to feel invisible or misunderstood or alienated. To hide or cower or crawl or crumble. I didn’t shatter every single one of my beliefs and dismantle every single idea about my Self and then put the pieces back together in a perfectly imperfect fashion, only to second guess myself.
I didn’t arise from the ashes like a mother-fucking-phoenix to censor myself. To be tamed by someone else’s whack standards. To be that brand that everyone likes, that girl who everyone thinks is sweet. To write shit that doesn’t piss people off. Look, I didn’t get sober for this shit.
I didn’t get sober to avoid getting my heart broken open, to avoid falling apart. I didn’t get sober to lie to myself, to say “maybe this time it will be different”. I didn’t make it out barely still alive to be complacent, to be quiet. To please you. To give my power away. To give my heart away. To act like it’s not the most precious thing I have–like I’m not the most precious thing I have.
I didn’t get sober to not preach to myself every day, like a choir, like angels we have heard on high. To not feel empowered. To not know that I am a sandstorm, a self-assured atmosphere, the queen of my own shangri la.
I didn’t get sober to fear what you think of me, to fear what any of you reading this right now think of me. I didn’t get sober to not be in love with myself and in love with my life and my friends and my job and my body and my spirit. To not be in love with my flaws.
To not be authentic. To not show up just as I am right now. To not grow, transform, unfurl, unwind, let go, be held. Are you getting the message? ¿Claro? Do I need to keep going?
I’m not looking for someone to complete me or make me happy or call me babe, I’m looking for someone more than a catalyst, more than a muse, more than just a good fuck. Someone who points out what I have yet to see, who is down to create an empire, down to destroy some shit and rebuild, down to hack into some scars, slay some dragons, jump through some flaming hoops, someone who’s down to make some irreversible leaps of faith.
I don’t need you to buy me dinner or “like” my Instagram posts or tell me I’m pretty. I want you peeled back, uncut, unedited, unfiltered, stripped raw. I want you to lay me bare or I don’t want you at all.
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