I have been semi high on antibiotics and thankful for it. Maybe I am hearing the song lyrics wrong, but tonight, they sound so goddamn right. This is the first time in months, if not years that I am writing again. So excuse the falling over feet and stumbles of word archery. In the past year, sadly so, I have become more head and less heart. I want to be uncensored and raw and even outlaw-dirty with my thoughts. I want to be reckless and get the mouth-guards drunk and let my fucking thoughts go on a rampage over my red lips. I want the words to smear my lipstick and make it cheap. I want to wear no bra and not give a shit about who sees my tits or not, I want to Woodstock the hell out of life. I want to get all up in my own business with falling inlove with every inch of my skin, my curves and body. You see, for too long I have had no guards at my ears it seems. I would let poison seep into my soul and create shades of black, when all I wanted was to be all roses and daisies in the sunshine. I think that is the problem with being an empath (* vacancy opening soon if anyone want to take over this horrid role) – caring. Don’t get me wrong, caring is good, but it has to start with caring about yourself first. I realised a simple thought: why the goddamn fuckity fuck do I allow people to treat me like this? (*The answer is long and complex and I don’t want you to start crying during you random internet search and finding this post, so let’s not depress anyone). But the point is, remove your filter. Don’t break parts of yourself to fix the broken parts in others. And like I said to one of my favorite students (a true inspiration you are Hiromi), be a fruitloop / wear that bright dress in daily situations and make an effort with you, for you.

Look at me Ghandi’ing the shit out of Sunday. Peace out.