I’ve reached an age where I can no longer, in good faith to myself, do the fun stupid thing. To send the text, to hope that I can change someone’s mind by telling them what’s on mine. To think that one more interaction would change the course of the narrative for the better, forever, yadda yadda. The romantic wild heart not afraid to put it all out there even if it means getting smushed has retired. Or wised up. Is this… growth? Whatever it is, it’s kind of boring. I miss being chaotically hopeful and reckless with my emotions. But I guess after enough times touching the hot pan, you stop touching the hot pan. Because it fucking hurts. But damn, I think about the pan a lot.
I was going to choose a pretty picture from Tumblr for this post but this one is more accurate. You see, the asterisk in the title is because this post should be called “too old to be stupid but still dumb enough to want to try.” I want to want to touch the hot pan. It’s like, to quote one of my favorite memes, there are two wolves inside of me; each competing with the other as to who is steering the ship that is my actions. One wolf wants to throw the hail mary, to dissect everything, to demand answers. To be a little dramatic. Look, I just want to feel something, OK? The other wolf is like, yo please don’t. The second wolf is annoyingly at peace with not knowing why things happened or didn’t happen the way they did. And the older I get, the more she is leading the pack that is my brain cells.
Let sleeping dogs (or wolves) lie, sure. If they wanted to they would, yeah yeah totally. But what if we miss out on something great because we didn’t sic the chaotic canine on the situation? A thought for another blog. Wow, helpful stuff from me, huh!