Don’t tell me your perfect. Don’t tell me to model my life out of your perfect little example, because it’s not. You with your fake smiles. Tell me the truth. Tell me about the mask you wear. Tell me what’s under that mask and why you wear it. Don’t try to tell me it’s perfect or you’ll lose me and every message you’re trying to tell. Tell me it’s freaking tough and gonna be a journey. How about that? Tell me about the lonely nights, confusing decisions, working through real stuff. Tell me that. Then I may listen… Instead you just mask it with a fake smile you’ve carried so long, you don’t even know who you are… You spend your whole life running from pain, then wondering why you feel so empty and false… I find myself drawn to people with pain because to me that’s reality. And feeling pain, doesn’t last forever. It doesn’t mean it won’t go away someday… But I also know happiness won’t last forever

Pain is resilience. Pain is something we overcome and what makes us stronger. Pain is the spark plug for change.

My work has cracks in them. My body has scars on it. There’s no hope of perfection inside me, because some of my scars I’ll always carry. I can’t have that perfect life. I can’t restart on a blank canvas again, because my canvas already has paint on it. I can only hope to ‘reconstruct’ this mess.

If I had to take a guess, I would say you feel the same way. So let go. Quit trying so hard. Just be yourself. Then maybe I’ll listen.