Being all of myself, that’s just not something I do.
I let my ambitions ride on magic carpets to places I don’t know. I let my heart stay with the people I love and have loved. I let my ideas float around me just beyond my full grasp.
If you call it reckless, if you call it susceptible, if you call it foolish, you’re right.
I am that.
But if I can get to a place I can’t imagine yet, then I’ll let myself fly to get there.
If vulnerability is what my core is made of, then my heart is not meant just for me.
If when I look out of myself and am able to see pieces, well I know I have something to make.
I am not whole.
I am places, people, and things.
Feeling at peace with myself is feeling alive in what I dedicate my life to, in the things that I feel worthy, and in the people who I choose to care about. My feeling of belonging, of happiness, of identity, comes from not only the pieces of me I decide to walk in, but also the pieces of me that I let free.