Swaying between prudence and carefree.
Like an indecisive monkey from branch to branch, and back to the original branch… Uncertain, unsure, un… un-fuckin-necessary… Like the word fuckin…
But more over… An excuse.. I’ve been prudent to not harm others to such extreme that I’ve damaged myself, and then felt so much shame that I was incapable of talking about it… Why? Because I was scared of disturbing others with my uncomfortable emotions. Too prudent for my own good. To be prudent is to be afraid to live.
I am so tired of being a prudent person, of being prude, of being anything that starts with ‘pru’… I wanted to live on the edge, but was too scared to start… Too prudent to even escape prudence… I was jailed between the walls of my own shame.
And now, three years after the realisation, I’ve gone too far the other way. I’ve let my inhibitions control my life -if I felt inhibited to do something, then I would do it, no matter what it was. If it rose the beast of shame and prudence, I would rebel and do the act that I was so terrified of doing. When presented with a choice, I would always choose the most uncomfortable. Do you want to jump naked into the Fontana Di Trevi? Yes! Do you want to have sex with that stranger? Yes! Do you want to try this drug? Yes!
And I felt powerful, and in control… and how wrong I was.
We never listen to anything that we don’t want to hear. I’m tired of being a prudent person, and I’m terrified of the opposite scenario.
Don’t be prudent, be forgiving. Forgiving yourself should be secondary to living the experience… Nothing worth mentioning was ever reached from a permanent state of prudence, neither was it reached by being a slave to our desires. I’m trying to find the balance by meeting the extremes.
I hope you can be wiser than me, and can avoid losing yourself in a senseless, desire-driven lifestyle to realise that you were too prudent to begin with.