I often think that I was born into the wrong century. Modern humans can’t seem to manage to get close enough to one another, to know one another as we have in times past. Meeting people and communication has become transactional, rather than connective. Social media has everyone thinking there are a million *amazing* options out there but it’s only the aesthetic of amazing.

What was once so natural and organic, is now laced with serrated blades and past insecurities, rearing their heads into the present tense. No one is willing to take the risk, to get hurt— to look like a “fool” anymore. The fool is the one who deosn’t reach out, who doesn’t seize the opportunity. Now, chaos is mistaken as chemistry and anxiety is mistaken as butterflies. I want someone who feels like salve on my nervous system, not gasoline on a fire.

What was once seeking clarity has been rebranded as being pressure. And what was once good communication is now seen as desperation. Connection has the feel of a gift shop novelty item; the sentiment is there but the depth got lost somewhere in the transaction.

Is it too much to ask to be sought after? To be seen? To make plans, have an actual direction? Is that over commitment in our single serving, one time use world? When it stops working, scrap it and throw it in the trash. Go write a terrible review on google about it too.

I am poetry. I am standing a little too close. I am, holding a gaze for just a little too long… I am the mind seeking to understand you. I am, slowing down and taking in a deep breath. I am what it feels like to simply breathe….

Whatever this world is, I am not this. I am not what you see out there and that’s why this world feels so— ingenuine. The plastic, the curated looks, the forced smiles and conversations. The modular gray functional trash.

I am walking in the rain. I am the song on repeat. I am the ocean waves. I am the bird taking flight.

I am none of these other things. I can’t pretend to be because it fucking hurts. All of it. It feels like swallowing shattered glass every time I’ve tried. I’ve heard men say they want real but they’ve been incapable of creating the space for real. Their hands haven’t been strong enough to hold; real. I need a man with strong hands and a kind heart. One who knows the value of silence. Not as a weapon but as assurance— as stillness, strength and stability.

A woman just wants to feel safe. Safe to come undone, safe to feel everything. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if a man can create that space, he will rule the world as far as he is able to because he will have a very powerful woman beside him.

Women have had to protect themselves within their romantic relationships for centuries. All of that karma has caught up with us here, now. We weren’t built to be undervalued and over-used. We weren’t designed to be a 3rd class citizen. We weren’t meant to be unprotected and unloved. We weren’t meant to be abused and taken for granted. That’s why this era is so damn painful. I feel the weight of all of the others in my lineage before me, but I just can’t do this anymore because it goes against my purpose here.

I came here to unbecome everything and everyone that came before me. I came here to break it all. To say no in all the places the others didn’t. I was meant to advance where they failed. And I was meant to step back where they lunged forward in fear and angst. I was meant to observe patience where tempers flared. It really is holy work. Work I didn’t ask for but I know it’s meant for me because everything that is and has been feels so fucking unnatural to me.

I am a rule breaker. I will keep getting back up every time I am knocked down. I won’t stop. I can’t stop until this is different. Until life feels like poetry. Until love flows like music and relationships flourish the way they were always intended to.

Until strength and tenderness can live together as one, this world won’t make sense. Light and dark. Sunshine and rain. Ecstasy and pain. All of it. I want it all because I am all of it. Every last bit.

We don’t readily acknowledge this but life and death live side by side every single day within our very bodies.

We are a walking paradox. Being human is a process.

What I am doing now, is a part of this process.

It will make sense when all things live as one again. But you’ll have to come after me… because that’s what men do.

Blessings xx