My love is a heartbreaker.
I break my own heart, all the time, by caring too much about other people. I periodically break other people's hearts, accidentally.
The best version of me is fairly fucking invincible. The worst version of me is a doormat with a target painted on it - just a red X with a footprint overtop.
Unacceptable behavior for a human of my capacity is to self-medicate and lie still. Acceptable behavior is to engage. Best scenario behavior is to blow in, over, and around life, like the smell right before a thunderstorm.
I want to bring the rain. I need another baptism to cleanse my soul of the pollution of humanity, and of my own vapid stupidity.
In the meantime, I going to go pound the congas and share my heartbeat with them. I can think of nothing better to make me feel alive and powerful. Because as it turns out, no one really cares, so we might as well roll with that.
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