I have no idea where I am gonna land.
I sat last in a circle in the sand. Looked up at the moon and just said thank you.
Felt the tide pull me as I walked through the water.
I am Ricky Fitz
I need structure and discipline.
I need something outside of myself to give me direction.
Have you met me? I am literally, geographically and cosmically all over the place.
There is a center to my universe. My child. And although I fucked up with him royally on several occasions, we made it.
But he doesn’t need me, like really really for reals. He has the permanence and goals that I was always lacking. Still am.
I will never take credit for the man he has become he did this. His accomplishments are his own.
I led only by bad examples. One big lesson on things not to do.
We had a conversation a week ago wherein he laid out how his life is going, and I teared up and thanked him for being my opposite.
Massive justification for my life full of fuck ups, he watched me and learned what not to do.
He has known what he wanted from a young age, something I supported of course, he has set goals and smashed them.
I float. Mostly without focus.
“I was like a lost moon―my planet destroyed in some cataclysmic, disaster-movie scenario of desolation―that continued, nevertheless, to circle in a tight little orbit around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws of gravity.”
Oh Stephanie Meyers, if you sift through the shit, there are some diamonds in there.
I am currently without orbit.
The last time this happened I ended up in perdition drunk for 2 years.
He said the reason I chose to live without magic would become clear eventually.
I think I figured it out and you aren’t going to like it.
Attica said, ‘you are orbiting him’.
And so it was.
And so I stopped.
And as I drifted further and further into space, I became more and more scared and fucking miserable really.
Why was it bad to give into gravity again? I loved the ebb and flow of the tides. I was tethered sure, but I was also soothed, and happy, and able to make my own decisions within parameters that suited me just fine.
I have been sucked into force fields and tractor beams that were definitely detrimental. Death Stars bent on imprisonment, conquering and eventual destruction. Planet killers.
But let’s back this up a little and ponder grasshopper.
What is Attica (aka Moon Moon) doing right now?
Picking out wall sconces, paint colors and asking me what the best bed sheets are. She is nesting, with her dude, in his house. And while that might not be orbital, it is domestication. And it is okay. He is okay, I quite like him. He is the kind of strong, stoic and in charge she always needed and never had. And he orbits her. And honestly, it’s lovely.
Her and I had a life plan, together. And it’s gone. I was never mad, felt like that thing god does where he closes a door and throws open all the windows.
I had to remember something. I love Attica, I truly do. The two of us were told we probably wouldn’t be friends and became friends anyways, it happened very naturally and almost out of spite towards those who said we wouldn’t be, but it stuck. She is laid back and fun. Brave in ways I am not. I am the mom friend and her personal google.
Seriously, she asks me everything. My name is not Alexa, nor Siri, but she seems to think it is.
When I sent her the article* about my first DMT trip she saw it as scary and terrifying.
For a minute I thought I wrote it wrong. Did I not explain how liberating it was?
I didn’t have to reread it because I realized something, that was made clear to me on my second trip*, my reality is my own. What is good for me might not be good for others.
I realized something else too. More like remembered it. We should never take criticism from someone we wouldn’t go to for advice.
Of course I tell Attica things, we have long amazing talks about everything, but I never ever ask her what to do. She asks me what to do, how to do things, what sheets are good sheets, what day it is half the time. She is just beginning to recognize wording in news articles after hitting the panic button about a hundred times this year.
She is not my oracle, nor my prophet, she is my friend.
I doubt myself, often and sometimes the advice I take is not weighed nor measured properly against what is best for me. I forgot to consider the source.
So why did I get scared and break orbit when she told me to?
And why did it take me so long to recognize the dynamic she has with her dude as the thing she was telling me not to do but then did anyways?
Fear mostly. Insecurity.
Submission, and not the fun kind.
I have orbited lesser planets and stars and at some point my celestial body recognizes their gravity isn’t enough to keep me in place and I break free on my own, or the star collapses and I have to fight from falling into the black hole they leave behind.
But this wasn’t that.
He was the sun, good and warm. He made me glow. Nourished me, gave me light.
What I had was good enough for me, what I was doing is what I wanted to do.
It was enough because I decided this.
It was all my choice.
I have been lost and miserable free floating through space. I don’t like this.
The book I am working on has falling stars coming to earth, they forget who and what they are when dislodged from their home out in the universe. And although I never meant it as a metaphor for what I am feeling now, it is exactly a metaphor for what I am feeling now.
It is okay to have someone as my sun, I am the moon and stars.
Stella Polaris with amnesia.
But I am starting to remember.
(*exclusive patreon content, link will be provided shortly)