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May 28, 2017

I’m Tired of Bumping Shoulders with Death in order to Feel Alive.

Warning: Naughty language ahead!

~

I am tired of not living.

I am tired of having to bump shoulders with death

to realize what it means to be alive.

I am tired of not leaping out of bed to beat the sunrise,

blasting through life with a full heart that yells,

“Let go!

Let go!

Leap!”

Collapsing when the day is done

into white cloud-like sheets

and being pulled under the sea of blankets

by a lover who says

loving me is not a choice

but what he is here to do.

I am tired of seeing humans half-assing their lives.

Work is still work,

even if you love it;

do what you love,

let it kill you

they say.

Fuck that—

we need to play.

I am tired of seeing humans chained to their desks,

captivated by their screens,

and not drunk in awe of the fleshy, beating heart

sitting across from them

in human form.

And waking up in a plastic house

cemented on pavement

to the hum and buzz of cars.

Hurry the fuck up already!

We are all so far up our own asses,

we think we are the kings of the road

and that it is more important to rush

than to be safe,

that our phone calls are more urgent

than life;

live,

fuckers,

live.

I am tired of having to drive outside of the boundaries of the city,

beyond wide buildings that make me feel claustrophobic.

I must run away

to let my eyes wander

across the horizon;

open space calms us,

like Xanax without the poison.

I need nature to soothe me like the mother she is.

I need my lips to be kissed with salt,

my body to be caressed by sand,

and for the ocean to take me like a lover

it needed all along.

We spend so much time chasing purpose,

we forget to enjoy the process.

One day you’ll be dead, darling,

and what will you have done?

Spent years wishing your bank account was filled with a five followed by six zeros,

your wallet so fat it bursts?

Spent hours criticizing your every pore in the mirror?

Spent eternity wishing you could let go,

leap into the unknown,

and learn what it really means to be alive

from the Europeans who take countless holidays,

midday naps,

sex before coffee,

and drink in sunshine

day after day?

We are all living in our heads,

yet our mouths stop running

and we are speechless

when we see others living in their bodies.

Our soul sighs in relief:

“Ahh,

yes,

there they are!”

How we do one thing is how we do all things,

and seeing others live,

grounded in their bodies,

moving through the world from their hips—

these humans are the freshest breath of mountain air.

Our heart says,

“Oh,

this,

this is what I need.”

I am so tired of not living—

let go,

darling,

leap.

~

~

Author: Annabelle Blythe
Image: Frank Park/Unsplash
Editor: Nicole Cameron

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