My heart is open. I have kept it open, despite all sorts of trials and lessons. I leave it open because I believe in love. I believe in trusting that my heart will translate what cannot be understood in looking upon me.
When people look at me, they don’t really see the me I am. What I look like has really been less of a concern for me, than the content of my soul. I work that soul finely. I work it with tweezers, blow-torches, wrenches and winges. My soul is my finest work, because, like all true artists, I am never satisfied it is done. I will never stop working to bring out the parts that shine and destroy the parts that hinder progress. I attack parts of myself that no longer serve me. I question those thoughts that show I need more buffing and polishing. I am not afraid to admit my flaws. I know them well and admit them freely. How else does one recreate themselves, if not by exposing their flaws for scrutiny?
When people meet me in person, I sometimes disappoint. The real me takes time to know. The me people learn online, is the me comfortable speaking because she is pretending no one else is really listening, it makes honesty much easier. The me in person, she is a little more work to know. She doesn’t waste time on people who haven’t the patience to uncover her. She is a bit less shiny than you might expect her to be.
I tend to be shy, and nervous. I blurt out garbage in fear I have been silent too long, and I totally and utterly suck at being social. My mannerisms reveal me to be exactly what I am, a woman who thinks and acts like a Muppet, most visibly Animal when stimulated, sometimes a Minion when hungry (especially for bananas) and often distracted, like the Fraggle, Red. My inner me is less manic, but that comes when people are let into my inner courtyard. I don’t know why the nervous freak comes out first, she just does. She isn’t so bad really, she likes laughing, but…there is another me in there too.
That me, is a bit more picky and prickly. She only likes people with patience and something more serious to talk about than what movie she saw last week, unless we are discussing the depth of the storyline. Plumbing the human heart is kinda my favorite topic. I like seeing people’s truths and, even more than this, understanding them. Mostly, so I can properly love them. Not to judge, but to accept.
I am also really opinionated. I believe in people. I believe they have inalienable rights. Rights that live alongside their soul. Rights that are due them, simply by virtue of their being alive, with a soul. Animals and plants too. You have a right to love those that also freely love you. No matter who they are, what they look like, or what they believe in, even if they clash with what you think they should be, look like, or believe in. I believe that what you give, you should get. What you create reflects you, for good or ill. That you have a duty to protect for others what you would want others to protect for you. I believe that love is blind and sometimes stupid, but worthy of respect and courtesy, even as it fails or falls short, because leaps-of-faith, should always be honored, after all, flinging oneself off a cliff is still brave, even if you are an idiot with no parachute. Love is never wasted. It is essential to growth and well-being.
I believe in people, but I am not a finished piece. I hide my work. I worry about reactions before my piece is complete. I put up barriers and roadblocks, (not always a good thing, but something I admit to doing). I also don’t have looks that impress. I am not a skinny girl, and don’t want to be. I am too impatient to wear makeup, have a fear of feminine clothing, and tend to wear whatever feels good at the time, often to the complete mortification of more fashionable people. I dress nicely, just not impressively.
So, my heart is open, but it doesn’t beckon you toward me. It waits for you to come and show interest. I believe in love. I believe the people who come find me, are the ones I am meant to be found by.
My heart is open, but I wait for you to walk up to the door and knock.