The idea of me being the only one in this world knowing what I am going to do next and where I will be and what I'm actually thinking about it is nothing short of exhilarating.
It's plain addictive.
I left my college town once after repeatedly refusing to throw myself a going-away party, nor would I hear of talk of letting one be thrown for me.
At the very last minute, right before leaving town in the middle of the night, I scrawled a few well-wishing words on some post-its, located the appropriate cars on which to leave the notes, and got the hell out of dodge, so to speak.
I loved every minute of it. I still love thinking of it because I know that I am capable of post-its with kind words and then turning heel-toe for the hills.
I like laying all of my cards out on the table.
Living passionately and unapologetically is so abrasive for my stomache's disposition that I find it downright spiritual.
I, myself, do not even know what to do with the kind of honesty that meets me in the morning before my coffee or loiters around at the end of my 26 miles of bike path.
It's offensive. It's rude. It's invasive. It's overwhelming. It's suffocating.
But oh god is it intoxicating.
I see it in motion and I simultaneously want to destroy it but then devour it to make its soul's substance my own fodder for the person I long to become.
"That is salvation."
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