Make Yourself Wild Promises You Can Keep

Alexia PdC

27 Jul 2025 — 2 min read

A long time ago, I was recently D.I.V.O.R.C.E.D. and adrift. Bounced out of the cis-het time loops against my will, no longer with a home that the system pretended was my own, no partner, no cat, no bloody idea what came next. I was so young still, but capitalism lies to us continuously about where and when we actually are.

I went to see a friend of a friend’s shop near my newly rented bedroom in East London. Dancing and drinking had become my new best friends, the great gin era of the 2010s. I forgot this person was an artist. Her shop was awash with circus-esque playthings, bright colours, everything I loved. And one of her paintings called out to me from the wall.

A manifesto.

Sparkly lettering on bright neon tones telling me something I hadn’t quite understood before. DO MAKE WILD PROMISES WHICH YOU CAN KEEP.

Something like nine years and another intense heartbreak later, those words still hang on my different, rented bedroom wall. Have they managed to finally clambered into my soul?

The first waking thought I had two weeks ago was quickly written into my sketchbook in thin blue pen. I PROMISE TO LOVE YOU FOREVER, ALEXIA. Yesterday I embellished my most vital promise with pastels on a beach, searing the statement into my consciousness.

My other manifesto is THE UNIVERSE HAS GOT ME. I’ve lived through some frightening things, on a personal level. I feel ready at last to let my central nervous system come out of the highest operating gear, ready for anything but fit for nothing.

Survival isn’t about the making-it-through-the-tough-part, it’s what the hell you do after that. Chaoses swirl for much longer than they are visible to the untrained eye. Hormones and living systems get stuck on HIGH ALERT for thousands of minutes longer than needed. We become so adjusted to this state, we’ve never known beyond it.

Practicing living, not making it through, that’s my life’s mission now. Living queerly, autistically, authentically, in solidarity, in connection, being resourced and ready for the joy as well as the grind and grief. Resilience can be the millstone around our necks - I am setting myself free.

Where are the words

When the air is wet and your hands are cold in your room Called to be in hibernation for three to four months The system denies that mammalian softness, as it tears all of us from our natural needs A candle burning on the slate hearth of my rented room

A letter from the empire to himself

I yearn to be less stubborn, and willing to see the possibilities beyond myself I am nearly 450 years old Dusty and tired in every pore, and yet Habits are hard to let go I am the largest empire of all time A quarter of the world’s land in

Hold the pose

Vogue, strike a pose. Shed your clothes. Hold for 10 minutes. Feel the slow burn. Scritch scritch, scratch. “10 minutes left” In the break I walk around the room slowly, taking in the many versions of myself. Held by the artists’ gaze, I am a powerful solid body, beautiful to

Maltese musings

A few short thoughts from the archipelago that is Malta. I had a good time, would recommend esp for spoonie rest. Malta, a place of many empires meeting melting mouthing “we were here, too” The British were last, carving out there ‘politeness’ into the limestone Mdina – Arabic for city – was

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Where are the words

A letter from the empire to himself

Hold the pose

Maltese musings