I Don’t Mind Being Vulnerable

I used to hate that I wrote so much. I could explain everything I saw, everything I experienced, everything I thought or felt. It made my writing vulnerable. It showed the truth, so it showed my flaws. 

I could create the truth as I saw it. Lyrics, written and spoken word. And then sound bites became the premier style of communication and at the very same time, a driving wedge between human beings. 

I began to feel like there was no point in speaking. We couldn’t really tell who was telling the truth or who was lying. What lyrics were honest? What stories were real? What blog was factual? And then photographs became communication. 

I’ll be honest. In these days it’s very difficult to know what you’re looking at and what people are actually saying. Their captions create one narrative while their photos speak another. God forbid you dive into the world of networking, meeting people and face to face connection. I’m not sure people know just what to do. There’s no caption for being present. There’s no filter for face to face.

You used to be able to keep secrets be whispering in someone’s ear. Now it’s pictures of places no one needs to see sent to secret corners of the internet. Are we any closer? 

I still believe people are craving human connection. I still believe that even with all the “access” we have... seeing each other half naked before we know each other’s favorite color, hearing people’s deep dark thoughts via blog & caption, before we learn each other’s middle name... I know people still want butterflies and giggles and a little healthy fear. People still want first kisses and hand holds. 

Nobody wants to be perfect. I’m sure. We want to show our flaws and still be embraced. We crave that vulnerable feeling where we aren’t sure but we fall anyway. It’s exciting. Petrifying, but exciting. 

If we could all fall into the love that eventually proves there’s a such thing as trust. If we could all be embraced for the very truth that makes us human... What would be different and how much quicker would we fall in love.

I hate that I write. I have to be honest. That means that I’ll be flawed to someone. But the very words that one man hates, another connects to and the joy I find in those simple embraces is what makes me human, vulnerable and alive. I don’t mind being vulnerable. It’s scary, but it makes me alive.

All My Love,

CM