To be real. To be ordinary and risk being called boring. To know that it’s OK when I’m not perfect and even to revel in it at times. Because I don’t need to prove who I am. I don’t need to justify why I don’t do social media well or explain why my life hasn’t gone viral yet. Because this is my space and my story. I’ve already spent too many of these thirty some years worrying about missing out. So what if I just did what I wanted?
I don’t mean in an obnoxious, arrogant kind of way. Rather the opposite. What if I just humbly, and gently, in all that I do just be myself? Maybe I wouldn’t worry so much about doing and saying the proper thing. Or maybe I’d actually have more real things to say.
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