Ode to Authenticity

I love myself!

Holy smokes!

I lit one candy cigarette with another candy cigarette, and put both in my mouth, as the film noir detective I've always known I could be. That realisation, stark as the contrast of the imaginary black-and-white film I've been using to render my life through the lens of irony, hit me like a ton of bricks - characteristically grey.

The unrelenting voice that narrates everything I do in bored, distracted cynicism went quiet and then tentatively inquired, "What is love?"

To know something, to perpetually study, to cherish the good and the bad, know its value, and to protect.

And that tired, indifferent voice was protecting me all along from my own fear of rejection.

Now, to love ... you don't actually have to be ... any good at those things.

You don't have to always be kind (it's encouraged), and the object of your love does not need to be happy about it, or happy in general. And fearing rejection is a very human, very forgivable trait to have. It's endearing, fearing someone would think less of you based on your own behavior. It's what makes us strive to be better, to never fall short of what we owe to each other.

That voice, despite the harm it caused, has always meant well.

The brave and the strong, people worthy of our respect and admiration, have one thing in common: being authentic, unquestionably themselves, without self-deprecation, without undue remorse. And to be that means you can be embraced by people who understand.

Others will tear you down. It happens. But if you face their rejection, you'll find that very same fear staring back at you. If you pull on that thread, be very careful, because unraveling a human being too fast will tear their armor right off. Think about the paperwork!

But thinking about who I am, and what I've been through, my list of achievements, I hope to never fear a coward.

No one should.

And that voice, that annoying voice, it's quiet now, and I'm at peace.