Getting Naked

I, sir/madam, am f@#% awesome. I live with millions of ideas in my head and I am not afraid to dream. Yup, I can be a tad bit selfish and self-absorbed and, yes, those are flaws o’mine (aside from a few others we’ll work on later). I am a mess (you should see my sink and my brain) and I am an aspiring neat freak who can’t quite seem to get the neat part right. I am a tumbleweed on this path called Lost and I am in a sea of many. I am up. I am down. And all of that, each little nuance, is a-effing-mazing. But…who gets to see it?

No one. God, I suppose. He sees all but mainly because He’s all up in through there regardless of what I want. I only allow people to see who I think is appropriate. Common sense tells us our parents shouldn’t see the person we are with our friends. Common sense tells us our bosses shouldn’t see the person we are under the covers with our boo. But outside of common sense…who’s naked? Like all the time—naked?

Me. Today at least. I am naked. I am stripping off the proverbial clothes and dancing in the streets (butt) crack out. If anyone does not like what they see, they have eyelids…they can close em. Today is the day I awaken from this terrible slumber—I pull back the fog of dreariness and the black hole of to-do’s and uncover.

I am a beautiful, twisted mess. I eat too much, am kind too little and drive too fast. I bust knee caps in daydreams, save babies in love and hoard paper in greed. I crave naps, swim in coffee and aspire to tri. I am a bad friend, so-so daughter, and weirdo. Where there is darkness, there is also light. They say there can’t be both but I am living proof there is. I am living proof that there really are two sides to every individual narrative. I live in proof there is a fine line to be walked and a good fight to be won.

I am f@#% awesome. Period.

~SM

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