sometimes, i’m scared to be authentic.
i’ve associated being me with rejection – i can’t imagine anyone who would still gaze on at the full me and love me still
but i’ve found friends who would.
a friend who would see my ugliness and in sheer faith see my goodness still
another who would see me and still care
and one who would see it and show so much care and love no matter her burdens.
And i’m ever so grateful for the multitude of others who are fragments of these people
but these people, – more than i could ever deserve