Every now and then, when I read something I’ve written to Malcolm, his eye brows rise up and up until they threaten his hairline. He tightens his lips like he’s literally holding something in that he doesn’t want to say. I imagine he’s thinking, “Wow, I can’t believe she would post that on the internet,” or “I would never choose to be that vulnerable in front of so many people”. Until today, I haven’t known what to make of it.
Now, it’s like a sign that I’m on the right path. I’m being open and rawly vulnerable which is my goal. My hope is that through my blog posts/stories, you find comfort in the fact that I do a lot of weird shit. I survived cancer twice, so I’ll be damned if I let censorship, even self censorship at times, silence me.
Malcolm will hate that I posted this. M, if you’re reading this, I love you and how you reflect myself back to me. It pushes me to be better every day.
Slightly vulnerably (maybe more than slightly),