This writing is now available as a podcast episode!
But you didn’t listen.
I’ve laid it all out there over the years. You didn’t even have to listen to the words I spoke directly to you. You could have read them.
But that’s a lot of effort. I get that. 900+ writings so far and counting.
But it’s not like I hide who I am.
I’m pretty open about my flaws, my imperfections, my challenges and difficulties. My “humanness.”
I pretty much shout them to the world.
And I told you. In person. Directly.
And I saw your eyes that you were ignoring me. And I told you that was a bad idea.
But like so many before, you thought you knew better. You thought you could read me. You thought that I exaggerated my flaws. That they were “cute” or quirky.
And to be fair, to many, they are.
But that’s because they take the time to SEE them.
And as importantly, they let me see theirs. They lay themselves bare, open. 100% authentically.
Just like I do.
And we find how our flaws are compatible, or at least comfortable snuggling together sometimes.
And I tell people, that’s the exception, not the rule.
That I can only offer a chance, not a guarantee. That it’s not an invitation, but a opportunity. No one is a shoo-in.
But you smiled at me vaguely, and murmured a few lines that sounded like what I might want to hear, and you ignored every damn thing I said.
And now you’re upset with me.
Because I’m being exactly who I told you I would be. Because there are consequences. Because I can’t be anyone else, and I wouldn’t want to.
I told you.
You ignored me. You hurt yourself.
This is related to several experiences, and rolled into one written perspective.
Mountain/Cliff Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
