A few days ago, I was listening to a conversation that made me feel so many emotions all at once. Three acquaintances were talking about a guy one of them had dated - a guy I knew, as well - in an awful way. Which would have been less offensive to me if he was as bad as they described him.
But he's not. He's just honest. And sometimes, that can be even more hurtful than hiding the truth.
It made me realize something about myself that I probably already knew, but was a sweet reminder anyway. I like imperfections. I'm drawn to them. I give extra credit for them.
There's a quote I've written down on at least five different pieces of paper or in journals that always makes me think of someone different each time I read it. "The pieces of ourselves we tend to hide are often the most beautiful."
I wonder what I'm hiding. I hope not much. I try to be as authentic as possible, even when it hurts, but there must be something. I'm going to try to find it.
