Tepid bliss crap? Or rising fire.

Lately your moves look almost extraordinarily certainly as though the reason you think you came here was just to stay alive, and get through life.

Maybe be a kind citizen once in a while? Sprout some tepid inspiration or find your bliss crap every now and then?

It’d be embarrassing if it weren’t so … common. Common enough that you can ALMOST get away with convincing yourself you’re killing at life, because hey –

you’re doing it just like the other shiny smiley flicky-hair peeps, and you fit right in!

If it weren’t for the continual rising bile you have to shove back down again every moment you actually pause and get that caffeine-shot-to-the-heart reminder of WHO YOU REALLY ARE and the fact that you’re NOWHERE near ripping THAT bandaid properly off –

you’d be fully convinced.

And maybe that’d be easier, yeah?

To go to bed at night and sleep soundly as a baby knowing that churning out some random on-trend woke nonsense and then whacking a selfie on it means you’re living with true purpose and depth. That the fact that you managed to step SLIGHTLY off the expected path makes you #goalsbabe.


it’s not that fucking simple. If it was actually possible to effectively numb out that beating bloody raw gritty beat of your heart SCREAMING at you to wake up and actually BE

you’d have done it by now. The amount of bloody time you spend consuming, distracting, caught up in things which don’t really catch even the smallest CORNER of your soul –


But babe –

it’s not gonna work. You know? This whole numb down and push down and swallow down your fire.

You wanna slowly softly kill yourself from the inside out by letting what was meant to COME out fester and destroy you, well, that’s certainly your right.

You wanna wake TF up, TODAY, shake off the bullshit and act like you actually got up today with your eyes open and are ready to breathlessly RUN this thing?

Please. If you were going to you already would have.

Now prove me wrong. Bet you won’t! But I still dare ya.