Impulsivity, I am hopelessly in love with you.
Buy the shoes.
Ditch school.
Kiss her.
Drive 30 minutes
for french fries
Kiss him.
Buy 18 pet snails.
Eat the octopus tacos.
In acting class they told me
to follow my impulses.
At home they told me not to.
A blessing and a curse
might land me in a hearse
But I’m living
Today I wrote a letter to someone I love and I’m going to send it
Tomorrow I might stay home and cook pasta,
or maybe I’ll drive to Portland.
Pack only a few T-shirts and my terrifying
overabundance of freedom
Are you proud?
I’ve been told not to be so impulsive.
To think more rationally.
To weigh the consequences.
“You’ll regret it!”
But the greatest regret I’ve ever felt
is having not done anything
about something that is my everything.
I know I’m not an idiot.
I’ve told myself this for years and I’ll stick to it,
but there will never be a day
when my mind defeats my gut.
Sometimes it means I’m
irresponsible.
Unpredictable.
Messy.
Slutty.
“Who are you anyway?”
I have a secret
-I don’t know who I am
And if I’m lucky, I never will.
You, my impulsivity, are to blame and to thank for that.
