It was substantial, of substance; made and on and of. A breaking down like chemical; awash. And I am not meant for innocence and I am not meant for happiness and I am not meant for simplicity. I don’t want to be. I like the view from here; precipical. I like to fall. For every moment of ecstasy there will be an equal and opposite future moment of misery. Balance. Because the staving off never worked. Substance as procrastination of feeling, abuse, and crashing, and I do not miss that. I do not miss roiling destruction and cigarette burns on skin. We are made of something different and I like that, different but similar. I decided to be honest because I was tired of figuring out what people needed from me. Relief is like release is like – god. Connecting to this sense of holy, or higher, like something new opening. In the flush of limbs. In me all that fire is repeated. Is this supposed to feel like that? It’s been so long since I’ve done that like this; in that sobriety has not always been my strong point, in that I’ve spent a lot of time on my poker face, in that I’ve never really taken the time to get to know people. And in this case substance is a taste like organic and coming from a space of mind; I think I like that better. It changes something when you can look back at yourself through somebody else’s eyes – if you can  just hold eye contact long enough. Acceptance as a feeling like skin; warm and tight and all encompassing. When you flex like that. I talk like this because I feel like that and I think like this and I know I’m hard to follow that’s why I’m not a leader. I’ve been winding down trails looking for a catalyst, waiting for my world to explode, waiting for revolution. Bodily. Mentally. Socially. Revolution isn’t something you wait for. It’s something you start, something you join. I just remembered what I cared about; I used to care. I used to care about so much. And there’s so much to feel in this world – synapse burning nerve short. Short wave, frequencies, projecting. Connecting. I feel like softening, a step shortened. Surety. Attainable self. A life-like rebus of fervor, fury and passion; allowing possession to be a part of existence. I’m ready. I’m ready for substance – to have it, to be of it. I’m ready to give a shit.

– Jaime Dyna La Mondain

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