This is your official, gold embossed, glitter bombed invitation to leave. To get the hell out. To dropkick whatever sad, soul sucking scenario is gnawing at your ankles like one of those little rabid shit chihuahua’s that have mainlined a can of Red Bull.
[Takes a deep breath]
I see you squirm.
Friends…
If they’re dragging you down, weighing you like an anchor made of old regrets and bad Spotify playlists.
Ditch ‘em. Put them in the bin and move on with your life. It might suck for a little bit but hey, it’s gotta happen.
Family… (This is a big one)
If they make you feel like a human trash bag? You can love ‘em from a safe, nuclear proof distance. Ever play the game Fallout? Well it’s kinda like that. Post apocalyptic loving.
Work/Business and the entrepreneurial space…
If it feels like a meat grinder and you’re the sausage. Run. Don’t walk. Run like you stole something.
Random Obligations…
If you hear yourself saying “I guess I have to” that’s your Bat Signal to nope the hell out.
The whole thing is simple. You’ve got a finite number of hours on this spinning hell rock (insert random horror here: the universe will eat us all eventually, why not eat dessert first?)
Seriously. Life isn’t a rehearsal. It’s not a dress fitting. You don’t get a do over. You get this one, precious, sweaty palmed shot, and if you spend it choking on someone else’s toxic fumes. Well, that’s not just tragic. It’s a crime against your awesome self.
Make a list (yeah, I said it. LIST. Because lists are magic spells for the existentially lost)
What sets your soul on fire?
Who makes you feel like a radioactive unicorn?
What places make you want to run, not walk, toward the door marked “EXIT”?
What’s the worst that happens if you leave? (Probably not as bad as you think.)
You wanna know what happens if you stay?
You become a ghost.
A zombie.
An extra in the background of your own life.
Here’s the permission slip. The getaway car idling out back. The big red “eject” button.
You. Can. Leave.
You can say “no.”
You can say “hell, no.”
You can say “I’m done, I’m out, peace, I’ll see you on the flip side with a grin and a coffee and maybe a new tattoo.”
Will it be scary? Hell yes. But you know what’s scarier?
Waking up ten years from now and realising you never even tried.
Realising your soul’s been on airplane mode, and you never switched it back on.
(Insert writing advice here, because why the hell not? If you wouldn’t write a character trapped in this scene, why are you living it? Maybe you gotta plot twist the fuck out of it, I dunno?)
And even though I think Mark Manson is full of shit about a lot of things this is the only book which you should take a couple of pages out of…
Stephen Walker