confessions of closed eyes

confession: if i repeatedly squeeze your triceps (i heart all muscles and triceps especially) i’ll probably give you a pass when you drunkenly squeeze my glutes. probably. depends on whether your squeeze is respectfully admiring or overtly sexual.

confession: sometimes people gotta learn the hard, long, heartbreaking way. rather than judge the choices that lead to learning in this way, give ‘em a compassionate embrace and love ‘em through the pain.

confession:  i asked what drugs he had. he told me and asked if i wanted to come inside. i said, “nah, i got those at home.” i became someone who turns down free drugs many years ago, but it still surprises me every time i decline.

confession: i rarely decline chocolate. i never decline flowers.

confession: i couldn’t tell if he was friend-loving me or dude-hitting-on me. i decided to believe it was the former because that feels better to me.

confession: for the first several songs i had to close my eyes because the bar, the crowd, the stagelights, the music were too loud and bright and dense and it was the first time i’d been in public since the funeral. only a few people knew the grief i had to leapfrog past in my head and heart to come out and get sweaty and trick myself into the vibrantly alive feeling my body emanates when i dance. i closed my eyes and danced with a few i can trust to hold and protect me for those early songs…and then when the music moved me, i cut the fuck loose.

confession: in therapy last week anger arose. in therapy this week self-love flowed. expressing healthy anger is a form of self-love.

confession: he said when she’s happy, she’s the hottest chick he’s ever known. he said when she’s pissed at him, she’s ugly. i told him that’s true for any man about any woman he loves. when i said it to him, i believed what i was telling him was true. but this morning i remembered all the men who have thought i was beautiful when i was angry, even when the anger was directed at him, and i’d rather be loved by men (and women) who honor my anger as much as my joy.

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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