dancing in the dark

It's almost midnight. I wanna go and eat more. I wanna a little more of that anesthesia. A little more "fulfillment". I wanna taste the "sweet" and the "fresh," feel the "crunchy" in my teeth. I wanna shut down my mind with the senses.

But what do I need? What do I really need? Everything looks pathetic, false, like playing a role in a movie. What's the truth? What makes me really want to live? Holding onto this form? I am so fucking lost that it gives me laughs! I feel like I'm sliding into a dark, deep well, but there is this subtle sensation that there's something beyond the bottom. No! There is no bottom at all. There is no well. It's more of a tunnel, a passage. There's something after. I just can't see it yet!

What am I supposed to do with this body? It's becoming sweeter to use it and is as if I'm less and less part of it. I'm more aware of it and less attached to it. There is so much love in no attachment.

How many forms of intelligence? Mind, body, spirit. And the sovereignty behind all of them. The awareness that can't be fully translated into words. That part of me that observes with no judgment. The "me" that always is. You will never be alone. You can do whatever you want. You can dance. You can sing. You can cry. You can scream. You can sleep with any man. Any woman. You can hide and run away. You can come back. Allways. You can show up and shine. Fall and rise. You don't need anything at all. You just want to be free, naked, and free. This is you. Unperfect. Beautifully broken. But not entirely broken. Free to be everything you are. A witch, a healer, a child. Free to cry every tear your body needs to release, free to say no, free to love and take off all the layers of this self and built the wings to fly without chains. Over and over again.

What do you want, child? What do you need, little girl? You're safe. We are here. We are complete.

Slowly, this discomfort of not knowing who I am becomes more and more familiar. I don't want it to go away. Ever again. And here it is, my mind again, seeking safety in what's known. Maybe I'll never be completely healed. Perhaps we don't need to.

But now that I know where I'm going, even without really knowing, it seems less painful to stop being me. Stop being who I was.

Stop being that doesn't make me less "me". We are beyond names, forms, and actions. Am I delusional? Isn't it more delusional not being aware of the delusion itself?

I'm now able to extend love and compassion to the infinite of my being.

So who do I choose to be after all?