subject line: the truth hurts.

 

my studio

I want to be a writer. But I’m terrified that if I write what I really think and know about people, they’ll get offended and they’ll hate me. It’s actually already begun to happen. One of my best friends got angry with me the other day, because I wrote the truth and she’s too insecure in herself to accept it and read it out loud. Why can’t we just be okay with who we really are?

I write about the things that happen. Dirty, gritty, honest, flawed things. And they’re beautiful. All of our lives are beautiful damn it. Whether we’re fat or ugly or inconsiderate. If we lie or steal and mess up daily. Even the stretch marks on the insides of your thighs. I just want to tell everything like it is. I want to express the humanness of everyone around me, but everyone around me seems to hate who they really are.

Why is no one okay with being seen through the lens of my work?

There will come a day when you have to look at your stretch marks. There will come a day when you realize that sometimes you played a supporting character when you should have been a leading lady. There will come a day when you read the sins you’ve committed aloud and you’re going to have to accept that you actually did do those things. There will come a day when you feel small, and also one when you realize that you actually are small. We all are.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you, but I’m gonna write it all down. And you can hate me for it, but you just might want to learn to be okay with who you really are instead. If you don’t like it, change it.