"I'm sick of down to earth, I wanna throw tantrums"

～ jack harlow inspo for us all

sierra mcdaniel

May 03, 2023

The pressure cooker is steaming me.

The vapor of my cells condenses into my tears.

A moment to honor the times when you don’t want to be cool.

An archaic desire to emanate heat.

A sigh of relief when you realize you are all seasons, reasons, and temperatures.

Even my southern california DNA is a spell caster for those storms.

There is nothing sweeter than the sour.

I wanna taste my fuel.

I wanna vibrate an auric field of screams.

I wanna lay it all out on the table. I sign no deals with the parts of me that ask to hold back the ugly, the angry, & contain all my dimensions into a grounding cord of the earth.

This chill girl shit is getting old.

What if I don’t want to ground?

What if my medicine is tearing up everything that tells me to go within?

What if I’m going in to realize I’ve been constricting myself to let it all out?

What if I want to break all the crystals?

To only realize I am the truest mineral.

What is the cost of me keeping it all together?

What is my price?

I lose all my internal revenue if I’m counting up all the times I’ve locked myself in the peaceful box.

Take me to space.

Orbit me into my lowest of lows.

Transport me to those unearthly destinations.

A lot of my potency isn’t in my heaven.

A few of my breakthroughs happen through calm lessons.

Your first breath out of the womb comes with a cry.

Well, baby, I’m breathing again.

This is my outburst era.

Outbursts that are raw.

Outbursts that come from a birthing.

Outbursts that ask to be a living, breathing being.

They are necessary.

They are the echo of the humanoid.

A mutation is slowly taking place in all of us.

The genetic pull to be all of you. A species only God could dream of.

I mean, all of you.

The you that isn’t on Instagram.

The you that is only seen by those close.

The you who punishes you for being anything else outside this image.

This image concept is a political agenda.

The parties in these debates are all the versions of you.

The dream candidate is an infusion.

You win when you tango with frustration.

You win when you don’t force a smile.

You win when you allow a tantrum.

There is no race to the presidency when you realize that the queen is all the players.

The royalty gene is a coding beyond these inner fragments.

I’m mutating.

It’s an evolution beyond the cells. This is atomic.

I’ve never been more lit up by my mess.

I’ve never been more exposed in my life.

It’s me exposing myself.

I’m frontline news.

“She’s judgmental, she’s fed up, she’s lost, she’s confused, she’s doubting again”

The masses inside of me are appalled.

How dare she?

Inner narratives sweating.

I’m firing all my internal news anchors.

No more fake reporting.

All the natural disasters are real.

I am the tsunami and the soft shores.

I am the earthquake of my own perfectionism.

My climate is always changing.

I’m geoengineering my ability to acknowledge the multitudes of sierra.

It’s time I recycle my emotional limitations.

It’s time I find sustainability in all aspects of me.

It’s a timeline of feeling alive.

To be truly healthy is to truly feel.

To be in the thick of every rollercoaster.

To express yourself is to free yourself.

And that’s all disease wants for you, to express yourself when you couldn’t.

To be fully you at the moment so it doesn’t have to be held in the cells.

So it doesn’t have to replicate into sickness.

Sickness is not being yourself.

That is the greatest epidemic on the planet.

If the body has taught me one thing, it is to fully live.

To take advantage of this experience.

To recognize that I am already dead if I’m not me.

All of me.

This is for all of you.

They are all living. We can’t kill them off.

They only grow back stronger from their graves.

To live is to be them all.

I breathe into that.

This is my invitation for you, too.

Sierra

subliminal shift ∘

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