These are my words. This is my hope.
My words will not leave you with an aspartame aftertaste. They are true to me, but when that fails they are true to truth.
I’m not looking for cliché responses and packages tied with a pretty bow. My words are messy and hard and surrounded by odd angles. I can’t seem to wrap them, so I leave them in their truest form for you to explore.
Take them in.
Pick them up and turn them around and around again if you must.
Shake them and throw them down or hold them close.
But remember that they are imperfectly attempting to capture something that is real and perfect. Not the happily ever after perfect, but the perfection that comes with honesty.
When everything else has fallen away and the words sit on the page waiting for you to take hold, that is when they are true.
Embrace them or discard them, but whatever you do, read them as raw and real and true.
These are my words; this is my dance.