The Ending of Dramamine // Car Seat Headrest
“I imagine girls hating in unison. White to black. Mystical communication, community. Ecstatic intimacy, intimate close-ups. Intimacy through the body’s waste and secretions. A self-constructed network between bodies.
(like the internet before the internet)
((like the internet during the internet))
(((or underground internet)))
((((((deep web and deep tissue))))))
(((((((ecstatic deep-webian intimacy)))))))
(((((((((I want to understand this language)))))))))
((((((((((insist that this language signifies))))))))))
(((((((((((until it signifies)))))))))))
((((((((((((for you too))))))))))))”
The exit door is always open for those who want to be away.
I personally don’t mind that and I don’t think it’s good to hold onto something, someone or some place or even a memory that bad just because it means a lot to us.
What’s prior is myself. I keep remembering that. At some point, the things I think they’re good for me sometimes are not actually.
I exit the things that cause self destructions and negativity.
Girl, Interrupted (1999) dir. James Mangold
❝ Stop trying to calm the storm…
“We all deserve a slice of the day to cry; we all deserve a side of the moon to console us from the sky; we all deserve to bury our sorrows before we rest; we all deserve to live our lives happy and blessed.’
‘sweet evening thoughts,’ - Megan’s Poetry #996
What a blessing. Last week’s Inner Circle was extremely powerful. I felt my ancestors and divine beloveds come to bring powerful gifts of insight. I know this energy will continue to unfold over the coming days. A vulnerability I didn’t expect to express was made clear. I Am wondrously delicate, translucent rainbow glint wings, bathed in the warmest golden yellow light. My right wing is injured and healing, the left side of my heart has a taut and tense pull inward. A block wants to form there, a trap door tarantula shut, Divine feminine.
I fear the expression of my deep and infinite gratitude, it’s tears of appreciation shed and shared, for fear of being looked at strange. That shifting weight, shuffling of feet and downturned eyes as I seek their affirmation. Mouths that move in agreement of the deeply felt Yes, of love and to love. They see it yet they don’t shout & praise as I do. Instead they comfort me as if I am in pain instead of ecstasy. Of life I Am full yet they seem to pity me; my tenderness to life. They look concerned instead of exalted in the love, freedom and gratitude they feel. All this love and tenderness and yet we suppress the speaking of it.
I came here to sing, to dance, to laugh in full mirth. I came here full of innate Knowing, it spills from my lips as effortless ease. A Beingness I’m still afraid to embody. A fear of fear cultivated in validation seeking. Those downturned eyes and gentle placating stirring doubt. ok.Ok. To more gratitude and self Knowing. Vulnerability to me is the honesty of my delicateness and innate beauty. My fullness of gratitude for Love, despite your disagreeing, nay saying, reprimanding or judgement. Vulnerability is Being open to judgement. - @cyanpeppah Cultivating gratitude and joy; letting go of scarcity and fear of the dark. - @brenebrown Because the wound is the place where the light enters. The light enters. Light enters.
Draw in life force, transmute as the tree trunk does and simply receive the sun. Bathe your beautiful wings in golden yellow light and refract it’s Love; loving freedom, in each now moment. Bee. - TRU