Flaming Truths.

am I right?

Disclaimer: If you either have not yet entered your mid twenties, or have already left them; I have only one thing to say.

LISTEN TO THIS TRACK BI–

Due to the fact that so far my mid-twenties have done nothing other than “turn me every way but loose”, I had no choice but to turn to philosophy. Life is truly what you make it. We live in a world where the system (as the cool kids call them) has already predestined us to fail. And let me tell you, they don’t even lull you into a false sense of security before they try to slit your throat. (what I am about to say next is going to sound very cliche, but just listen.) Being an adult is fucking hard. Like you still don’t fully fucking get it, but you have to at least pretend to, right? Like you just want to be have fun and live in the moment but it seems like there’s a never-ending supply of shit hitting the fan. And you don’t get to watch from the lens of a “kid ” anymore. You’re in there getting dirty too, trying to clean that shit up. And what happens when the shit is flying at you so fast, you can’t keep up? Bet you’re not thinking about fun anymore.

what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

It means that you’re falling into the matrix, Neo. Don’t feel shame, happens to me too. You get so lost in the problems, the work, the anxiety, the bad shit, that you forget to pick your big-ass head up and look around periodically. Life is what you make it.

I would like to reintroduce myself to you, properly, of course. Hi, I’m Phoenix. I may only be in my mid twenties, but I have lived many lives. One thing I can tell you for certain? I’m nowhere near finished.

I know the American Dream is to work yourself into an early grave while being in debt, an excitement deficit and more than likely overweight and oozing chicken grease. However, I would like the bonafide, all-inclusive human experience. I want a slice of the pie that is all the possibilities. What do you want?

…is that it?

Hell nah. As the development of my frontal lobe rapidly approaches; I am equally as rapidly getting my teeth kicked in by my newfound level of common sense. I know what I want, and I know what I don’t. And a big area for that right now, is my love life. I don’t want to guess. I want to know that I can not only trust the outcome, but I can free-fall into it. The moment I feel like I am going to emotionally overexert myself and get nowhere (per usual), I will simply vanish. I am not a rehab for broken men. They do not rehab or nurse me back to health when I fall apart. Why is it fair for the opposite to be expected simply because of my role of woman within society?

Men get to be selective with women and their looks, who they commit to, and to what lengths they will commit to them. Women get to be selective about who they date. I will no longer be dating non-creatives. It is redundant, boring, and actually a method of self-harm as a creative myself. (there, I said it) I, also, would rather chew off my foot at the ankle coyote style than go through a phone. Come to me as a woman, I’m coming back at you confused. All in all, I am tired of dating and courtship in this day and age and would greatly appreciate a break, something worthwhile; or (my favorite option) a break followed by something worthwhile.

aw, first world problems and common sense…must be hard.

Watch it, motherfucker. If I rapid fired everything at you that this past year of my life alone has taught me; I’d bury your ass. I am simply reflecting on the things that matter to me now. If I were the same as I was in my early 20s, I can humbly assure you that I would not give a fuck. I was simply living la vida loca. I have since evolved (a few times).

One thing I can tell you I fear? Wasting away, becoming more and more of a loser the older I get. As I get older and diversify my horizons, I continue to realize that the line between “cool kid” and loser is very thin….and a lot of people two step and pop, lock and drop it back and forth over that line.

and what do you qualify as a loser?

Not being able to let go of what used to be. Even what or who you used to be. To be a loser, you clearly had to have lost something. (Possibly your damn mind) And what would be worse than losing yourself? Think about it (no, really, think about it). At what point do we stop trying to keep up and just get comfortable with the idea of being ourselves? Or y’all not feeling that? I guess I’m just having my quarter life crisis and nothing makes sense.

I’m not trying to ruffle any feathers, I’m just saying. Looks like you got some things to think about.

talk soon.