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January 21, 2016

Show me the Things you Hide.

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Warning: A bit of naughty language below!

 

I don’t care how handsome you look twenty years from now or how much cellulite is around your waist.

Show me your growth.

The rings around your heart, like an ancient tree, that say you’ve been learning and falling down and getting your heart broken, deliciously.

Show me your wrinkles.

The lines that say that you’ve really lived, the creases that say you’ve laughed and cried and weaved stories, like magic, into life.

Show me your failures.

I know your successes are shiny and sweet, they’re trophies, yes, but your failures are as juicy as a thousand ripe tangerines.

So tell me about those times you f*cked up, messed up, and got led astray.

Show me your grey hairs.

The ones you got because you were anxious and sad, wanting to give up on life; the ones that threaded silently into your hair like silver stripes, making you cringe at your reflection.

Show me your shame.

The fears that squirm under your skin like secret snakes; the thoughts you keep hidden in a locked box far, far away.

Show me your anger.

Your temper, your stubborness, your wild fire.

Show me your humanity.

The parts that are tender to the touch, the bruises that ache, the places inside you that cry and tremble quietly at night.

I don’t need to be impressed.

I don’t want to see your bright feathers and sparkly sequins and lengthy list of lovely accomplishments—

I want to see the man behind the curtain.

Mask off,

I don’t want a show—

Mask off,

Peel it away—

Peel it all away,

I want to see you.

Show me everything you like to hide,

Because I will love every ounce of your beautiful darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

Author: Sarah Harvey 

Editor: Renée Picard

Photo: Flickr

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