Being Vulnerable

For today’s amusement, my guardian angels decided to sprinkle the dust of vulnerability over my head as I slept. I woke up, waiting to greet the day with confidence. But it was already lurking in my veins, filling my body with a feeling of dread. Yesterday’s mental advances teetering precariously on a fence. But what I was once told is quite true. Underneath my quiet demeanor lives a warrior. I’m taking out my sword and am ready to defend myself from today’s annoying (yes my angels, annoying) emotional hurdle. What is making me feel this way and how do I slay it? 

I’ve never really let anyone all the way in. What am I afraid of? I need to open the door where I keep my strength. Where I store all the painful things I’ve lived through. Where the movie of me as the conqueror plays on repeat. Where everyone’s underestimations of my strength are their problem, not mine. 

Give me about 2 hours of mind play my guardians. And when I’ve filtered your dust sufficiently from my veins, you’ll most certainly be getting a boisterous fuck you. Is it ok to call you assholes? When I come to the pearly gates will Peter hit me up with, “Remember that time you called your angels assholes and flipped them off?”

Perhaps vulnerability makes the reward even sweeter.

Screw 2 hours, the fuck you is countdown is 3…2…1…

 

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