Lessons in Liberation: How to Break Up by Writing a Love Letter

My Dear,

I mean absolutely no offense, but I cannot keep worrying about you when I’m trying to pour all my energy into getting good with myself.

I’m over here trying to play, trying to heal.

Practicing self-care as a priority. Rolling the emotional waves of everyday mirror-gates while trying to break psychological trappings of a system which compels against everything that would help us embody radical, transformative change.

That requires focus. Discipline. Mental stamina. Moral and political acuity. The kind of honest self-awareness that finds ugly interesting and the duty to defend fantasy captivating.

It requires courage and confidence to say words as you mean them, with unbridled poetry, metaphor, grit, and gravitas. Shaking off capitalist trimmings that urge, “Tone them down so they can sell!” to limit their resonance by an octave or two.

That means while you’re striving to materialize truth in the face of power, most people hear it as strange and confounding.

It may sound like you’re speaking intoxicating rhythms, but to them you only ever speak theoretically, and often out of key.