Dear Self, Find You. (In which I punch my life in the face)

Had you given up so easily while ripping your way out of your mother’s womb, you wouldn’t exist right now. You fought harder for what you wanted when you were a freaking baby. Ten or so pounds of purple faced, hawk taloned, screaming fury.

It’s time to rip your way out of this bullshit womb you’ve constructed around yourself in the name fortifying your heart. It’s time to start living your life.

It’s time to grab the bull by it’s blasted horns, rip them off and jam them into his spiteful eyes.

The bull is your greatest enemy. He is comfort. He is security. He is safety. He feeds off of your fear, shits it out and feeds it back to you, contaminating you. He makes it seem like he’s your friend and that he’s got your best interests at heart, but he’s not, he doesn’t.

While you’re at it, rip that jagged horn from his now vacant left socket, grip it tightly in both hands, you’re about to get even more messy.

You don’t have a weak stomach, do you? I sure as hell hope not, I am you after all. We are the same person, or hadn’t you figured that out yet? I know you already did, I’m just messing with you.

That horn is slick with blood, brain matter and whatever was in that bastards eyeball. It’s going to be slippery. Get a better grip and put your thumbs firmly against the base. Now it wont slip out of your hands.

You may want to get a running start here; change your angle a bit. Even though you’ve extinguished his brain spark, something is still pounding away, merrily, in his accursed chest cavity. Some how, this beast is still alive. He’s too stupid to know he’s been beaten.

Are you ready? Messing with you again, I know you are you magnificent bastard. Now jam that organic horn shank into your captor and dig your way to whatever is still beating in his chest. Don’t go all soft on me now, really set to work, this little bitch wont control you anymore, he’s done here now.

Tear through the muscle. Grind past his ribs. There’s no stopping you now, that’s right, use your damned teeth, he’s yours now.

Get all that shit out of your way and lay your eyes on the prize.

Does it look familiar? No, I know that it doesn’t, you’ve never seen it before.

That magnificent muscle you see pulsing and pumping before you is your passion. Take it back now. It’s yours again (for the first time). It’s time now: reclaim your destiny, reclaim your dreams, reclaim what’s left of your squandered existence.

Rip that still beating bastard out and put it back into your chest.

Feel that fire spread through your entire body. Drink that shit up. Absorb it into every corner of your soul. It’s yours. Taste it again, remember it, feed it, nurture it.


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