Let's get the fuck out of here, babe. We can go anywhere. Maybe we can head to the mountains and settle in a little cabin on a few acres of land.
I'll spend the evening hours spattering a canvas with paint, capturing the way the moon glimmers on the lake. We’ll wake up to sunbeams instead of alarms and fuck away the morning. I’ll no longer feel strange that I’m the only girl I know who never gets her nails done. After all, pretty manicures are a waste when hands were made to be held and used to make beautiful things. We could make beautiful things, honey.
And I won't feel left out that I don't have lashes glued on because I see the world better without the primp and plaster and I won't have to fill my lips with toxic waste to keep up with all the other suburban mummies and I can keep my tummy soft and my thighs thick without apology or pressured Peloton binges and you won't have to join the beer league or play another fantasy draft or grind another six day work week and we won't have to pay obscene amounts for premium butter and organic milk and our kids won't beg for Jordans and capitalist plastic garbage toys and we won't have to demand that the bank stop robbing us and we won't need to silently scream 'fuck the man' and factor in the taxes and we won't care that the government has blocked us from seeing the daily happenings and whodunits in our newsfeeds.
You can rock a dad bod and self-publish children's lit and I'll write sad poetry peppered with profanity because language is fucking beautiful and our children won't have to fit the mold and be told they can't know what they already know until the school says they're ready to know it, lest they be diagnosed with a condition that deems them unpliable without a behavioural plan and they'll never be bored because they‘ll watch the nectar being sucked from wildflowers and they’ll count the rings of trees and study ancient scripts on stones instead of textbooks written by dead white guys in the upper classes and they can eat ice cream cereal for 'morning munchies' and learn to forage off the land with childhoods ripe and ready to be savoured like freshly bitten peaches dribbling down their sunkissed chins and I won't have to sit through another awkward family dinner with right wing relatives and bigoted bandwagoners and bite my tongue until a metallic taste swirls in the back of my throat while they go apeshit over nasty feminism and preferred pronouns and bootstraps that need to be pulled up and I won't have to work OT or get any sort of big degree to prove my worth or send 18 emails to corporate questioning why things are they way they are and whose interests do they serve anyway? I don’t have to make good trouble here. I can just start by making ‘good’.
And my insides can stay tender and I don't have to put on a brave face every time I see someone suffer to exist or smack shit in their veins as their eyes roll back to absorb the gift of nothingness and I don't have to wince and shut my eyes tight when violence blasts across the TV to violate my senses because we're obsessed with pain as entertainment.
And up here I won't have to take any sort of pill for any malady to cope with the messages this increasingly inhumane world sends to my rapidly firing brain and I won't worry if I let myself slip past 120 pounds and I'll ditch my pretty clothes and my pleasure teasing lipstick in every shade of nude in favour of naked skin and lips that roam and I'll shut down my Instagram page and all its prepackaged cutesy lies about what I need to be and I'll curate this life with you instead and we can grow veggies in our garden and skinny dip in the creek and have the birds sing to us instead of shitty top 40 churned out on the assembly line and we can sit on the porch drinking earl grey listening to pretty folk songs and the echos of the loons calling out on the water as we wonder if we’ll meet again in the next life and the kids can stay up late watching meteor showers instead of screens and I'll teach them about constellations and Greek mythology and we'll spend our days remembering we're made of stardust. We're made of stardust honey, we can go anywhere. If only we could go anywhere.
In some other life, we could go anywhere. ✨
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