Never comment

When people write, as I do here, we expose what it is inside. We are our worst critics, and we rattle around in our own minds with our insecurities. Shhhhh…..I am not here…do not notice my lack of rhythm, my disorientation, my loose threads, my restlessness, my disorganization. What is it that says we must both scream to be heard and also hide from the transparency? I feel both strongly, as do others I have heard who write.

I feel this is deeper than writing though. Processing takes so much energy. To be true to ourselves, we cannot listen to outside comment. Please, if you care, never comment. Don’t comment that it is taking too long. Don’t comment that it seems messy. Don’t comment that my process hurts you…though I am certain it must.

You can comment that you love me though and accept my journey as mine…you may do that.

It is deeper than writing and processing too. It is about exploration of sexuality too. Don’t comment on the number of partners I have had. Don’t comment on who, or when, or why…there were reasons. Don’t comment on the value of the learning there…as even if it was a shit show, the learning mattered if only to define “shit show.” Don’t comment on my choice to fuck, but don’t comment on my choice not to fuck either…

My writing, my process, my sexuality…

Now what happens when I choose a person or people with whom to share? I say, listen to this idea I have…what do you think? Then please, please consider and offer me yourself and your beautiful perspective imbued with your essence. I say, bare witness to my journey…what do you see here? Then please, please tell me your journeys and share salty tears and joyful beers associated. I say, I once fucked this man at a place and time I wish I hadn’t…what would you have done in my shoes? Then please, please tell me the way you would have played my cards.

Your comments matter to me…your criticism though…that you can hold for yourself. Don’t tell me things that add your morality to my own judgement fire. Don’t pray for my soul as it is just fine. Don’t tell me my writing would be better if more organized, more clear, more skilled, more…

Don’t tell me what should be or should not be, just look and see me.

When I see your words -any of you out there, I will offer you the same gift of seeing your truths. I will see, I will hear, and I will never comment. I will love you for your vulnerability.

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