A (Tough) Love Letter


A Love Letter to The Real You:

I have no interest in your credentials, your street smarts, or your childhood wartime anthem. I welcome the raw and rowdy shit-storm that would erupt were you to explode your ugliest truth, the angry pent-up power buried beneath the story. I dare you to show me YOU in all your dancing naked singing karaoke at the top of your lungs no holds barred glory.
I want to see you as you are - beautiful broken bits and all.

On this Valentine’s Day, I invite you to step outside of pretense with me. For regardless of your orientation in body and heart, when you come out, you eventually fall in
love with who you were meant to be in this world. The real you is sexy as hell.

Take an emotional romp in an unmade bed, touching upon your heart’s forbidden places so that you might cry out in the ecstasy of releasing fully to what is real.
Like your body’s yearning, so does your soul’s cold hard truth soften in the sharing. May your self-seduction stir you into silent contemplation of the beauty and the beast within - the universal ugly that you share with each one of us. In exposing your madness, you permit me to find peace in my own.

I want to tell you something about
perfect love. It’s all a lie. Perfection, that is. Every single person you admire is secretly flawed and unwillingly imperfect, too. Everyone makes a mess from time to time. Especially me.

But ya know what? I’m tired of apologizing for it.
Aren’t you?

I’ve come to discover that it’s not my flaws that cause me and the people around me pain. It’s pretending not to have them... fighting to be above it all wreaks havoc on our lives. It is our denial that breeds anger, drama, and dysfunction. It is our self-abandonment and presumption that we can offer ourselves unconditionally and fully to another that gets us into trouble. Surrender of sovereignty gets in the way of offering real love. And spiritual bybass is a convenient excuse to avoid being vulnerable; it’s time we call ourselves on that shit.

I think you’re smokin’ hot when you forget to put on good face.
Can you love me there, as well?

If so, I think we have a chance to change this crazy world where secret selves cry out by inflicting pain on one another. But we gotta start with each other.

I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.

I love you,
Candice

P.S. Learn to
Love Thyself First


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