let Yourself sing

you’re not the only one who can hear it. sometimes it’s a whisper. sometimes it’s nothing and you can feel sorry for yourself in peace. sometimes it’s a monotone hum, filled with bass. not quite distracting enough to stop you from moving, but somehow still debilitating. wrong. wrong. wrong. turn here. turn back. oh, that person’s gonna hurt. sometimes it’s a piercing screech and the whole world comes to a halt. what is self sabotage if not that voice telling you exactly what you don’t want? and if you did want that thing you so flawlessly fucked up, what is self sabotage if not that voice acting out the feeling that you’re not ready? you weren’t ready. and for as long as you ignore and ignore, you never will be. endlessly chasing roadmaps as if your mind isn’t a portal directly to where you want to go. where you want to be. any external answer claiming perfection and truth is a liar. unless that truth is that the answer is You. the You locked in a cage, perfect and unfettered. the You that knows what you’re here to do even if that’s not making all the money and fucking all the bitches. the You that yearns for connection and divine purpose. the You that would sing instead of scream, if you’d just pass Her the mic.