Oh shit.

Fuck.

I am naked. All my flaws are exposed. There is so much light and nowhere to hide. Not even for a second, to rest, to think. I don't want to hide. I am lost, and I don't know what hiding means. There is only hiding from myself, and that has never felt like home. I can't fight truth. It is pointless.

I welcome the exposure and the insights I was never given. Even though it fucking hurts. And it fucking hurts. It is humbling me, shaming me. Scolding me for years and years of ignorance.

I feel sorry and thankful at the same time. I see how weak I am, how much wrongness I take for granted. How little control I have with my patterns. It scares me. I am confused. I am embarrased.

I need it. It is balance, forcing itself on me, finally. Pushing me, bashing my head in with truth. The hard, unbendable, all penetrating light of truth. It is of utmost importance.

I am. And I am not. I am fumbling to find my way. And my path seems nearer with every ray of light. It feels like home. It seems like what I always sensed, but never understood, and the understanding chokes me with the strength of the earth.

I love her, the truth. She is my guide, my hand to hold, to protect, in order for her to guide me. And it is time to man up. Truth and balance. Accept it with peace, because it means no harm. I'll drink up. Be my strongest self, naked and strong because truth cannot hurt me, only set me free.

I am sorry, with gratitude.
I am wounded, with strength.
I am wondering, with certainty.

I am here.