i was the child at a fair desperately holding onto her balloon that was double knotted around her wrist, because i needed to know that my life was in my control. i am still that child, still anxiously and stubbornly holding onto needless baggage because i tell myself it’s light, but i don’t realize the freedom i could enjoy.
i need to let go. i need to because it’s best for me.
i need to let go of microwaves, overpriced drinks at clubs and even decently mixed drinks. i need to let go of the memories of running around with my 14 year old heart, telling myself that’s the closest i can achieve to freedom. i need to let go of darkness, social etiquette, uncharged phones, my dad’s tone, my irrational fear of being unable to connect, my deeply irrational fear of spiders, unfinished books, cuticles, blowdrying my hair, the fact that i miss everyone i’ve ever met, counting in sevens, uncertainty, california, my tendencies to admit defeat before i even try, feeling unwecloemd, my fears about attachments, heavy anxiety at a park a 2am in 2006, the need to connect, and instead sinking, money money money and more money, things left unsaid, the constant need to converse, the times i felt forgotten, lost items, waiting, people who don’t contribute to my positivity, the fear of not being good enough, chores, unanswered questions, the overwhelming awareness of my sensitivity, everything i used to believe in before and during and after B., and … the idea that being alone was better than ever opening myself up to love.