I wanted to write something beautiful and lyrical today. Something provoking thought, and this may be an offshoot of that. But that larger piece is still in the works, friends! This one is more pressing, and it’ll just be a little convo between us.
You know the mantras—long ones about self-obsession, putting you first, and girlbossing to the moon. Sure, that’s fair. You do deserve love, kindness, and nurturing—but we also preach about not owing anyone anything, and those two sentiments aren’t exactly perching on the same wavelength, are they?
Think about this: if I don’t owe you anything and the same is assumed on your behalf, where are we getting those fundamental pieces of sociality that keep us pushing? From fucking good samaritans? Yes, but no. We owe each other consideration and a chance. It’s fruit, it’s flower, it’s the foundation of our silken dreams, all sweets and glee.
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I’m totally aware that in being social creatures, we are prone to judgements (sometimes quick ones), and contrary to what some might believe, I think that’s okay. If you’re globbing a big ass, gelatinous scoop of mayo on your sandwich, I may look at you twice—and I’m so sorry to my mayo-loving audience. But I would never deny you a listening ear or an apology if I’m wrong (i.e. my last sentence). I would never proclaim that I don’t owe you the kindness of hearing you out and putting my pride and self-righteousness aside. I’m not above that.
We’re venturing into a world of total isolation, one too focused on me, me, me. I get wanting to experience self-love, and of course I encourage it—but do it without forgetting that love and social experiences hold water. I’m sure you’ve felt it, the pseudo-oily feel of that stream slipping through the puffed up cracks in your fingers, and the nuisance of it. It’s preventable.
I recently saw a note on here about the lack of uppercase letters being used in writing today, including with the pronoun I. Using a lowercase I makes us smaller, i think, but in the right way. We become an equal in our pieces to all the things that surround us—every letter, word, person, and experience—i like it.
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We’re living inside the world instead of on it, and we cease screaming that I am here just long enough to say we’ve been immortalized in stories. Who are we alone? Just little organisms that eat, shit, and die. But, with my mother i am a daughter, with my siblings i am a sister, with my friends i am loved, and with my peers i am intelligent.
I guess what I’m saying here is that the most massive thing we owe each other is recognition and friendship. There will be extenuating circumstances that cause you to step back and think, woah, maybe this has gone too far—and then your debt is paid. But if we’re using the debt analogy, some of you ‘self-obsession gurus’ need to be chased by collections and subsequently jailed.
Writing is by nature a really social thing to do, and though we think our experiences are unique, the more detailed we are, the quicker we’ll find that glittery pocket of the world that sees themselves so wholly in each of us. The color of our shirts will have been the same, or an ex’s name, or the weather on a good day. And isn’t that so stunning? Not being alone? Not being overwhelmingly singular or important? We’re so much more free than we think. Love yourself enough to not build a box and shut in all your beauty and friendship where it will rot, entirely unseen and heard.
Let the moon bathe you. Know that even it needs the light of the sun to thrive in a beauty of its own making. They owe each other courtesy and will to keep shining.
CHECKING IN: mood - at ease listening to - would that i by hozier reading - a court of wings and ruin (tail end!) writing - the quiet moments enveloping intimacies Take good care of each other, and feel free to comment your own check-in responses. I'd love to read them, sweetnesses. Until next time.
I love mayo :(
So is raw fish sushi, but I still love you lol. Loved it!!