As I pave the lane through my growing pains, I’ve noticed I walk differently now that my armor’s changed.
I’m a little more selective with who I expose my cracks and chinks to… a little more protective over the parts that still don’t work quite right.
My flaws are sacred.
Tongue is laden, not with seductive toxins drained from rose petals, but with the burden of bearing the shield of Goliath. There is no protection for the priests inside the tabernacle walls, they must guard themselves by what they speak, before they let anyone in at all-
And I’m the same.
So if I show you the holes in my magical perfection… the wounds where blood still leaks and hasn’t quite dried… know that I’m not interested in having to defend myself against you. Rather, I have begun the true hero’s journey of discovering what it means…
To trust you.