Choice: That Was The Thing

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Something I’ve learned over these last few months is that we neglect choice. We don’t choose the people that are choosing us, and when we do that we stop choosing ourselves in the process.

I think about versions of myself in moments, whether it’s the girl in the striped dress, or the girl who wanted out so badly that she put her fear of flying aside and went to New York on her own. There’s a moment in particular, where I was in an Uber eating a pizza slice in February, listening to a Robyn song and I couldn’t tell you how happy I was in that moment. Because it wasn’t just me choosing myself anymore.

But life likes to throw a storm your way when you’ve just started enjoying the calm. Whether the storm is the dial tone, the unread message, or the slamming of a cab door at 3am. In order to fight back I started screaming the words dancing around my mind, and let my actions speak for themselves even if it bites me in the ass.

They expect us to take risks, but restrict us because of the perceptions of those around them. They watch us dance on our own, but refuse to join us in an attempt to stand their ground. Maybe next time instead of wearing the silk dress, I’ll write in lipstick on my forehead “Not looking for things in pieces”

I don’t know how many times we can run our fingers through a person’s hair until they get it. Until they remove our hands, and tell us that the hands of time state that it wasn’t suppose to happen now. So we yell back, that we’d be damned by the hands of time because if it wasn’t for the fact that we rebelled against the notion of bad timing, we wouldn’t have been built upon the experiences we’ve chosen.

How could a person be so calming, but release such a rainstorm inside of you? Weren’t we just observing them from the inside of Ubers, or restaurant windows? That wasn’t very indirect. Oh well.

Everything about the people we choose is so liberating, but every so often we’re restricted by the idea of taking the wrong step and starting over, but that’s because we’re not being chosen. People write songs about this, but we still don’t have the answers. When is it appropriate to walk away? When is it appropriate to be dominant and state why you should be chosen. (Not to mention the freedom that comes with leaving your heart in the right hands) (I’m just saying) Why did we stop choosing ourselves along with the empty souls that did the same? What kind of twisted domino effect is this? Don’t we deserve more?

They say they’re not ready, but they’ve done it before. One bad move, and suddenly they’re veterans and they no longer want to step onto the battlefield. Emotional security and consistency becomes no mans land, and God forbid we step onto it. Do promise me that the next being that accepts every failure with patience, and “it’s okay” responses doesn’t have to stay indoors and wait for the calm, because you can no longer say to them that the last person you should’ve kissed longer didn’t choose you back.



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