If you can’t handle the heat...

This is how I break. Middle fingers, IPA’s, a lot of “fucks!”, screaming for freedom from behind the glass, fighting for me, fighting for you, rage, tears, spilling my guts all over the goddamn place from digging out the bullets of trauma. It’s messy. It’s as painful coming out as it is going in. I’m human. Not a fucking object. And this is all of me. And I put myself back together with bracelets, vegan tacos, stars, sunrises, metaphors and symbolism, canned soup, a shower a month, migrating with the birds, desert detox, climbing mountains, rewilding in the forests, making fires from friction, reading the clouds, getting my tires out of sandpits, isolation, isolation, isolation, drowning out society, solo nights amongst the bears, deprivation, deprivation, deprivation, starved appreciation, howling pain, roaring joy, friends that know the way out of hell, truth, fighting, fighting, fighting for freedom!

If you wear my bracelets, you’re going to wear my voice. I’m going to be so loud that you won’t be able to wear them without wearing my lifetime fight for freedom.

And if you can’t handle the heat, all of it, these bracelets are not for you.

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