i think i’m steadily, gracefully easing into letting go of my attachment to things and learning to share them with the world. i’m not an only child. i don’t have issues sharing. i’d lost just about everything in a fire at the start of my saturn return. still, i have this thing about ownership. some things i just want for me.
the attachments are so strange.
on one hand there are the Beautiful Whatevers i’ve had for years. effortlessly transformed into impromptu gifts for admirers who love them. things on my body i’d just give if someone expressed interest. just to see them light up.
then there are the others.
like the prototype. something i made shortly after getting on my knees and pregging (a desperate combination of praying+begging). i tried to bargain with God. swore if i did a something familiar & ritualistic i could be closer to you.
i bossed up and sold it. no duplicates. i could easily make another but why would i do that?
i’d taken pride in making all these little things for you. a bouquet of deliberate blues & pastel greens to complement the greys in your condo. i waited for the appropriate occasion to box and send, but it makes way more sense to hold onto.