I surrender self-improvement.
I surrender “fixing my life”
I surrender making small changes that add up.
I surrender figuring it out.
I surrender doing better and hoping it works.
Fine. I’m “so smart” and “things just naturally fall into place for me” and i’m “so lucky” and I’m a “sensitive person” and whatever else takes it all away from me.
Fine, I’ll stay out of your way.
I surrender so that you can make art.
I surrender so that you can figure yourself out.
I surrender so you can keep your image of me intact.
I surrender so let’s talk about you.
I surrender, so I’ll stay out of your way. Out of everyone’s way.
I will feel childish about feeling angry. I will feel embarrassed about being hurt. I will throw a tantrum, apparently.
I will find comfort in shame and victimhood and powerlessness and surrender and not in excitement and self-directedness and positive reinforcement.
I will be contemptuous of my flavor of brokenness.
I will accept my flavor of brokenness.
I will find it boring.
It will not solve things.
But maybe they’re beyond solution.