Daily Prompt 1919

When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

If I take this literally, I went for a walk earlier. Anything could have happened – I could have been struck by lightning, run over by a drunk driver, abducted by aliens, lord only knows.

It worked out with me sweating profusely bc I wisely decided to do this later in the day when it was hotter and sunnier. Heatstroke! Didn’t even think of that one. Naturally, my thighs began their chafing process almost immediately, and I can add accidental brushfire in my crotch as another way I might’ve gone out. I also feel better mentally, a little more clear, a little less stressed, a bit more connected to whatever. I was also incredibly thirsty. Overall, I’m glad I did it because I really don’t like myself if I sit too much. Idle hands and all.

I think, though, the point is a big risk, and for me, it feels like every damn time I write anymore. And this cycle is so goddamn old. Me writing about writing has been the majority of the content of my blog. Like, I do this, then I write more. When I get writing, I tend to get going in the direction I want and then I hit a brick wall of psychosis, I guess. Or a brick wall of myself self sabotaging…myself. I am not manic right now, but I am wanting to write. Which is kind of saying I am wanting to breathe. They are very natural important things to me, it’s just one can be a sign of something else? I guess? and I know it can be a bipolar thing and I do tend to just ride the waves anymore because what the fuck else am I gonna do?

It’s not even that it’s bad, it makes me want to exercise because I know all of this are dogs in my machine. I tend to get really into it, I Hyperfocus, I do a lot of shit to get my stuff out there, and inevitably (as my husband reminded me today on our walk) I burn it down and stop. I get scared or I decide this is the version of me not fit for public consumption and I go into private consumption of my soul, until I’m all withered, decayed and fucked up looking like somebody who pissed Ursula off.

Last time, my Facebook had gotten over 3k followers and my TikTok was 1k. Rookie numbers, but enough to make me shit my pants and get off social media for half a year. Which, I have a problem with it anyway, I get addicted to that shit and it’s not good for me. Buuuut, it also generally gave me an excuse to stop writing and start tormenting.

Then it’s like omg my soul is dying cause I’m not writing and if breathing is air for my lungs, writing is air for every fucking thing else.

But I gotta risk being out there, taking off my bullshit and just bullshitting.

How’s it working out?

You tell me. I’ll have to get back to you with some kind of consistency or something. Good lord, like 6 years I’ve been doing this. I have truly jumped the shark.

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