I was sitting on my couch tonight, just relaxing in silence. No lights, no television, no music, no commitments; just me and my thoughts. There are times when that precious little slice of peace is the best part of my day or week. Other times, it's torture. I guess it all depends on where my mind wanders.
Sometimes, the two sides get mixed up. Something that at first seems horrific leads to a little bit of clarity and perspective. Sometimes, something that sounds so good in theory can end up snowballing into feelings I don't want. This time, I'm not sure which is which.
On the surface, I'm feeling incredibly vulnerable. Typically, this is not a feeling most people want to have. Feeling vulnerable, either physically or mentally, has so many side effects and associated stigmas. People equate vulnerable to waiting for the other shoe to drop: for them to be hurt, for them to be forgotten, for them to be deemed part of the problem and not the solution.
But I believe that there are two types of vulnerability, and I believe that sometime it can be a good thing.
Inside that good vulnerability lies hope.
Everyone is vulnerable. Everyone feels lost sometimes, or forgotten, or hurt. There's a connection that every person has to each other: people want to feel fulfilled and safe, and they find that security through each other. So maybe vulnerability isn't necessarily a bad thing if within the correct context. Maybe our vulnerability is what leads us to open ourselves up more than we ever thought possible, and maybe it's that same unshielded part of us that acts as a beacon for those who can and want to mend that insecurity. Who can make us feel alive. Invincible.
I want to feel invincible. Safe.
I want someone to see my vulnerability and then make the effort to look deeper, like I do for others.
I want for someone to see me for who I am: yearning for attention, busting at the seams to find someone to give my absolute unwavering love, aware that I have so much to offer and yet so much to learn from other people.
I want someone to open themselves up enough to show me their fears, their hopes, their goals. And I want to be able to help them be the best person they can be while they help me do the same.
Maybe that's possible, and maybe it's not. I have no idea. I can only keep putting myself out there on display for the world to see and hope for the best.
Hope is all I've got.
I just want that to be enough.