On Vulnerability
I am not always good at being vulnerable. I’m not sure any of us are, really. There’s a weird tension between wanting very badly to be seen be someone and being scared by it. Even when it feels easy. Maybe especially then.
When someone makes me feel at ease, I will always push through whatever insecurities I may have. But lately, I’ve been waiting for those insecurities to appear, and they simply…haven’t. That’s new, for me.
There are things I want to say out loud. But I haven’t. I have taken them and put them into poems. All good poetry has pieces of the writer in it. I wrote a poem yesterday that feels like a spell, in the best way.
I should be scared, but I’m not. That doesn’t mean it’s always easy for me to be vulnerable. It isn’t. But I’ll always be glad when I’m met halfway. It’s an interesting dance, learning someone’s stride, so to speak.
I tend to want to fling myself into things headlong. But I can change my pace to suit. The somewhat hilarious thing about me is I’m always trying to keep my heart from hurling out of my mouth. How, if you pay just enough attention, you can see what I’m trying not to say, even as I’m telling it slant. Sometimes, I’m not as clever as I think I am. But sometimes, too, I want—well, that’s a story for another time.