Today at a library I spoke to Jim. Such a pleasant 82year old gentleman born on the Isle of Man. As I got to know him a bit more, I found out that he hasn't spoken to a single person in 3weeks! He did mention saying hi or hello to people you normally greet, but nobody wanted to take it from there and spend the time of their day just talking. We spent chatting roughly 20 minutes and every now and then he would almost feel uncomfortable having me around, asking if he wasn't "wasting" my time.
It saddens and angers me, that at an age where everyone feels so connected, we have grown so detached and so distant from each other, even from ourselves. Even our own friends, our own parents and relatives, let alone strangers. We avoid being vulnerable with each other. We project what we think would gather more likes or more acceptance from the society. But by doing so, we are undoing the very basic of the basics. Connection. We are ashamed and embarrassed to project vulnerability.
It all starts with a simple hello. Outside.

It took me 10 years to let you in. 10 years to allow you to look at me and truly see me. 10 years for me to let you look at the piece of me I've never gotten back. That piece is yours. Hell, all of me is yours if you want it. I don't know if I can bear to be anyone else's now, knowing what I know; how things could be. And this is why it took 10 years. I've always been afraid that once I tried you I wouldn't have a taste for anything else. I let you in completely. No walls. No pretenses. No pretending I didn't. Now what?

You walk around
Pushing people away
Its your insecurities
That makes you feel this way

to ask for help. is one of the most difficult things ever. you never know what you're becoming until you've become that. and then you see, and you're like, ouch, how do i go back?

some people feel they'd rather die than open up. but some others say, vulnerability is beautiful. accept it. it's okay, because everybody else isn't doing so, you should.

a cousin said i was an open book. i didn't know if it was bad or good but i thought i didn't want to be an open book. that happened years ago.

sometimes you keep secrets for so long it gets bad. maybe like, secrets could be some fruits, and they remain nice and all but then they rot. either you should throw them away or remove them from your system. don't let them become an illness. and it's always hard to share what matters but you should, because we're all dying either way and each one of us is so small.

everybody should be an open book. because why not.

you are a breath of fresh air to the melancholic poet in me.
for once i am not moved to write words of sorrow
of despair or heartbreak or bittersweet longing -
but words of joy,
of eloquent sighs and satisfied sleeps,
of whispered words of love and curious inquisitions,
of two souls revealing themselves to each other,
of vulnerability and crossing the bridge between discomfort
and feeling at-home
in our love

Oh my battered bruised heart
Somehow you still love & share
And let others in
Thorns and all
Your beautiful vulnerability inspires me