It’s the middle of the night and I’m fantasizing about living a million different lives…

How I wish I could be a Carrie Bradshaw dressed in Vera Wang, waltzing around the streets of New York City in dazzling high heel shoes. A trace of delicate perfume in the air on a summer evening, headed to a cocktail party with the girls.

Then I fantasize about having an eat, pray, love story in Bali. Barefoot. Mala beads. Light, flowy dress. Cross legged. Smoke of an incense dancing in a small, colorful room decorated with Buddha heads, meditation pillows, and ancient philosophy books sprawled on wooden tables.

Ahhhh

I wish there was time to do it all. To live the different flavors of life. To taste the different vibes. To embody the energy of different realities and get to live it all.

Sigh.

Life’s weird.

~~.~~

Well, let me tell you about my love life.

I’m currently with a man who is sweet,

but it feels like so many parts of me with him are dead.

Like that deep, earthy part that years to get completely submerged in inexplicable love that goes beyond senses.

The part that wants to be fully seen and understood without judgement.

The part that feels comfortable with silence and can rest peacefully in tune with all that is–no wants, no worries, just pure ease and bliss. Like “This is it!”

The part that feels like an embodied woman-sexy, wild, free, shameless. In full feminine energy, embracing her body, her cycles, her perfect imperfections.

The part that feels both like a queen and a little girl. Loved and looked after. Honored and respected.

Lol
am I delusional?

a part of me just thinks I should be happy with what I have. That I shouldn’t “self sabotage” because of some fantasy.

But I can’t help but wonder if maybe…

just maybe… there are still parts of me in the space time continuum that are waiting to mature. Waiting to be unlocked and unleashed. But not just yet. Not right now.