Echo of truth.
Can send ripples of the unknowing.
Fragmented reactions.
Disjointed responses.
Eyes not locked.
Left of centre.
Oops.
My bad.
Ditching the should, would’s and could’s.
I’m not here to please you.
I am here for the hum.
This skin suit is but one portion of everything I am.
So excuse me if I ruffle your feathers.
Your reflection of awkwardness is all the answer I need.
I see you.
The courage it takes to be you in with the status quo.
To follow your dream.
To stand strong in the pursuit of passion.
For that too is wavering, just like our truth.
It is but a perception of the mind.
Subjective.
How does this sit with me?
Most times it doesn’t.
But me going against the grain is more comfortable than pursing something that crushes my soul, that leaves me knowing that I have conformed to stay under the radar of the pack.
The radar of being a deer in headlights when they find out the truth about me.
That I am not perfect.
That I fuck up a lot.
That I am not happy all the time.
That I am flawed.
That I am in fact a freak show of weird.
… and that I like it that way.
Gobsmacked to know that I want to have a conversation about me, my dreams and everything I need to do to make that happen and I want to listen to yours. I want to know not about your life around you, but you.
For us to have a conversation about the realness of our lives, our flaws and what turns us on. To not cap our fucking pleasure like it’s the walk of shame.
I don’t get that, nor do I care for it.
The sheer fact that society is OK with being OK, to not having had an orgasm forever, to not actually asking what your dream life looks like, to not discuss our gifts, to not actually call out each other on our bullshit.
Sometimes we don’t see a reflection of ourselves.
We see a reflection of what we have healed.
Sometimes we see a reflection of what we don’t want, a little nudge and a reminder.
The echo of truth is fluid.
It’s the tide that goes in and comes out.
It is as far and wide as the eye can see.
Sometimes it is a clashing title wave.
Other times it is but a soft whisper hitting the shore.
Knowing that it is truth all the same.
Each one as relevant and important as the next.
… and everyday it looks a bit different and that too is perfect.
