Vulnerability


Anything I say, anything I do, makes me susceptible to being vulnerable. Pressure to be quicker, faster smarter rends me only incapable and I admit wholeheartedly that I haven’t worked ‘it’ out yet and I would surrender gladly to this fact if I were not afraid of losing my will completely. Believe in anything at all, rather than nothing.

I have not had a conventional life. Everyday I wonder if I will ever fit into life, the way a raspberry fits into a mouth, or the way a cloud fits into the sun.

I am lost again, this is usual, when the words don’t make sense and my perception heightens and I lose those everyday anchors, like which way is up and down and right and left. Such trivial wordly necessities.

I am woman then, and girl, pure and simple. I am Spirit. I am nuisance. I am vulnerable in my very existence. I never know if you will understand this, mostly you do not, my life has been an ongoing lecture theatre of how not to be who I am. Who I really am terrifies you. Terrifies me too, because you are terrified.

I fear. Yes I do. I fear you and your perception of me and the lies you might believe to reinforce the lies you tell yourself about who you really are and who we can and can not be to one another.

I know nothing but some jumbled up words made into some jumbled up meaning, because you won’t look me in the eye so we can see who we really are.

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