What if for just three seconds we let ourselves believe in the wild possibility that the grandest, craziest, kindest version of ourselves  (the one kept tucked away, the one the world gets a sliver of if it’s safe). What if that is really who we are?

Our hearts are as large as supernovas. And as powerful and as breathtakingly beautiful.

What if we feasted on the world instead of these polite nibbles we insist is ‘the way things are’?

What if doing it for fun was the whole fucking point?

What if we let go?

Then chaos and disaster? I think not.

I think finally – finally – we would let ourselves breath. And see. And feel.

And then, oh then we could lie with ourselves in the warmest embrace and revel in the wonder of our glorious, joyful, hilarious, wondrous god-like fucking brilliance.