I know it’s because the people who love us don’t want us to get hurt.
But how do we learn? How do we grow? How do weliveif we can’t fuck up on occasion?
I almost wipe out getting off the ski lift—definitely distraction because I’m thinking about Theo,notme being inept—but I recover and take the turn to head to the top of the run with my neighbor.
Feels good to be using my body again.
Flexing my muscles. Being cold at the start of the run, the skis and boots and poles familiar old friends.
Feeling.
Living.
Fuck the people who judge you for your body, he said in another one of the videos I watched through Sabrina’s log-in late last night when I couldn’t fall asleep. And yes, I donated what would’ve been the monthly fee to a cat shelter to get over the guilt that came with knowing I was breaking the rules and getting content that I didn’t pay for. Fuck Theo.
Fuck Theo and hisyour body is a powerful motherfucking treasure. It’s your story. It’s the children you’ve carried. It’s the grief you’ve managed. It’s the bones you’ve broken and the scars on your skin and the life you’ve lived. It’s strong. It serves you while you’re serving everyone around you who demands so much without remembering that you’re a human being, and your body deserves for you to love it as much as it loves you.
For a guy who refused to eat for fear he wouldn’t look good on camera, he knows what to say to women with physical insecurities.
Fuck Theo again.
He doesn’t get more room in my head.
Not today.
Today, it’s about racing down this mountain slope, about feeling alive again.
Cold air rushing my face.
My skis pointing where I tell them to point.
My legs flexing the way I tell them to flex.
My body flying faster and faster and faster down this mountain.
You can soar. You can fucking soar. Anyone who tells you that you can’t is either afraid or they’re looking out for someone who’s not you. I grew up in a world that told me I was supposed to be afraid. That there was danger on every corner. But I never saw it. I never saw it, and I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to race. I wanted to fly. I wanted fun. I wanted adventure. I wanted something more than just surviving. Still looking for it. I hope you are too. I hope you’re flying high in your motherfucking dreams and that when people tell you no, you do it anyway. Might be shit. Or it might be the best fucking thing you’ve ever done for yourself. All kinds of fancy philosophers will put it more elegantly. Fuck elegant. Who has time to worry how it looks when it’s time for us to fly?
I hate him so much.
Ihatehim.
All of that wisdom.
All of that wisdom born from years of experience. Years of feeling like a fuckup. Years of doing life his way anyway.
That’s why they love him.
They signed up to see that glorious penis under a man knitting hearts, and they stay becausehe gets it.
He knows insecurities.
He knows fear.
He knows disappointment.Beinga disappointment.
And he knows it gets better.
He knows you canmakeit better.
