Fine, I’ll say it – I get sad sometimes! I even post photos of myself crying. So much so that I have a sponsorship deal with a waterproof mascara company – vulnerable!
I can share a picture of myself in a bikini – it’s hard to know how the internet will react to my just-slightly-shy-of-conventionally-attractive body. I mean, they will react well, but how well? It’s scary to take a risk.
I’ll admit that my parents pay my rent, and, fine, also the stable for the pony I live with. People are so embarrassed about this, but it’s true of everyone (I know). I’m just the only one with the courage to say it. It’s hard to be this brave, but I know I’m an inspiration to others.
Not enough people are open about their mental health, but I am. For example – I struggle with depression. Like, when one of my friends is depressed, it’s a struggle to continue to be nice to them. I didn’t come over here to watch you sit on the couch. I came over to ask you to look at my rash.
It can be hard to open up about my political views on Twitter, but I just want to say – let me take a deep breath – I think Trump is bad!! I’m really opening up to you – it’s terrifying! I bet the trolls will come for me, but that’s the price of bravery.
I eat lunch out of the bulk bins in Whole Foods. It’s not stealing, it’s assuming something is complimentary, which many might call “assuming positive intent”. Yes, I scoop nuts into my mouth with my bare hands, but those hands are mostly clean, as long as sterilizer lasts 48 hours. The most vulnerable part by far – eating in public!
I’m not great at everything I do. In today’s social media age, everyone always posts about all their talents, and not enough of us talk about what we’re bad at. Me, for example – I’m really great at gluing jewels onto boxes (note: I face a ton of prejudice, but Trump also hates this type of jeweling). And yet, I’m not that good at driving.
It’s scary to talk about our bodies, but I can be vulnerable and open up to you. We’re expected to all think we’re perfect (or deeply flawed, I always forget), but I hate my left index finger, which I was staring at when my eyes should have been on the road. If beauty standards for women weren’t so high…
Sometimes, I tell “little white lies” (lies told by thin white people). Like, I told the girl taking over my lease while I do a brief stint in jail that the apartment didn’t have bed bugs. In my defense, I wanted to.
No one talks about this, but it’s hard to make new friends. Especially in the solitary cell I requested at this luxury prison. If you feel lonely too, you’re probably so grateful that I was vulnerable enough to say it. Can I get out on bail?
I’ll be honest, it can take me a while to really open up about my life. Yes, I killed 7 children with my car. My bravery in being able to talk about the kids I’ve killed can probably help a lot of people admit that they, too, have made mistakes.
Wow, so vulnerable to admit that I’m just not perfect! But even more vulnerable to admit that I’m very, very close.