Wherever I will go 

​I’ll let people misunderstand me. I’m done being an unsolicited exterminator of ambiguity. I’m tired of feeling like I do when I walk out of a store empty-handed, the fear of  the anti-theft detectors at the exits beeping always looming at the back of my mind, although I know I haven’t shoplifted anything.

No,  I’m not going to carry around a thesaurus of my soul anymore. I’m not going to offer autocorrect when someone takes my honesty for hostility, or my openness for immaturity. 

I’ll let people have whatever illusion they shaped in my image, and I’ll walk away from such shoddy artisanship. 
I want to sit with the skillful listener whose ear can tell each vibration, each tone that deviates from the truth. One who will affirm that I’m tone-deaf to falsehood, and that in my authenticity I never miss a beat. I want to walk with one who has an eye for visualizing my words, threading them together on the sheet of my underpinning energy.

I want to pour out my heart into delicate hands which will form my confessions into beautiful vessels, just like a glassblower. Vessels that will act as signposts in my path.  

    ” Here was the meeting, merging, and metamorphosis of two souls”

 they’ll read. 

I want my path to be a beautiful mosaic of organically mismatched yet perfectly complementary moments with people. I don’t want my path to be contaminated by half-assed, half-hearted attempts and unfinished equations. 

Respond to Wherever I will go 

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