Allergic to Consequences

Three Negronis in, I’m blasting techno on my balance board, fully allergic to consequences, and temporarily evolving into the most unhinged version of myself to date. Snusless. Dopamine-starved. Adrenaline-deprived. I literally climbed a random parking-lot wall just to feel something. I could see the fire in my own eyes and honestly? I understood what some say about my gaze. Looking at my own eyes in the mirror gave me chills like I was looking into twin crystal balls.

Nobody talks enough about the withdrawal symptoms of “the life as we knew it” before everything went… south. Or sideways. Or into whatever spiritual demolition site this is. Becoming emotionally numb was not on my vision board. I miss flirting. I miss fire. I miss dopamine. I miss adrenaline. I miss calculated chaos. The highs. The chase. The spark.

I feel retired at 27. Twenty-seven. If Earth is a school and this is my one body rental, then yeah, this is inevitably YOLO, isn’t it? It’s not that deep. It’s not that serious. We’re all just running experiments in human form. Send the text. Drink the drink.

A car almost hit me again today while skating to work. I’ve genuinely lost count how many near-death guest appearances I’ve had since moving to Milano. My entire timeline could flip in two seconds. Again. And when life is that fragile, what exactly are we pretending is so serious?

I don’t want to feel retired at 27. I want to live. I literally have a “live life to the fullest” tattoo from when I was 16 on my rib. Yes, it’s cringe. But teenage me was onto something.

I want to bomb downhill on bikes. Ride waves. Be a passenger princess in a speeding car or on a sports motorcycle. I want to boulder, climb peaks, dive deep, hold my breath till I feel high, swim in freezing water, skate downhill with questionable survival odds. Listen to loud music, I want to flirt like tomorrow is a suggestion. Meet people whose names I’ll forget, or remember forever.

I want to be alive. Feel alive. Be present. Follow my heart. My gut. The madness. Wherever life leads.

YOLO, right?