I don't want to sound like a diary entry from freshman year of high school about all the things that hurt my feelings that day. I don't want to ramble on and pity myself page after page after page. And I especially don't want to be one of those people who try and be vulnerable, but instead are just kind of a hot mess express and instead of drawing people into their vulnerability and making space for others vulnerability, it all just becomes a pity party. I do not want to be any of those things. 


But what I do want to be, and to live, and to write, in pure realness; I want to live authentically. I want to talk about the things that hurt like hell and make sides of ourselves, and corners of our hearts, never want to come out to the world again. Instead of shoving our pain deep down and being so terrified of sounding like a bad freshman year diary entry, why don't we just talk? About the things that hurt? About the things that fuck our hearts up and make us feel like we'll never have faith or hope again? About the things and moments and memories and thoughts and feelings that feel like they may cripple us forever. 


I want to see the new engagement photos, I want to see all the baby pictures, I want to see the happy things that social media brings, and the joy that it brings. I want to see the beauty and excitement and innocence of life all over my social media.

But I also want to talk openly about the things that we're walking around trying not to say or not to cry over or not to express; the things that are only bleeding us out slowly but surely.

I want the open sores,





chaos, that we're trying so desperately to shove down and keep to ourselves. 

I'm so over trying to pretend life isn't breaking all our bones and still causing us to find beauty and laughter and contentment. I'm over the game of 'I'm fine. It's fine.'

I want the real. I'm utterly convinced that the thing...the ONLY thing that will save our hearts, save our minds and souls and spirits and bring us into the kinship and 'knowing' that our hearts were created for, is vulnerability. 

And its fucking terrifying. But its holy, and messy, and healing. 

So here I am. Dedicating myself to vulnerability even when its everything I'd rather run from. I'm trying to write more often, more messy, more unedited, more real (scary real to some. Also scary real to myself), but more me and more vulnerable than ever before. 

This isn't a new blog I'm starting. Or a new, anything really, except a pledge to my heart and yours to live truer, and messier. In the past I've tried to keep my website really clean. No cuss words, and everything as edited perfectly as possible. I wanted to, even in vulnerability, have an ending to everything that summed it all up and left hope and a message at the end. And sometimes we need to just let the sadness sit and not try and sum it all up. And I want to do that better. Because, well, life and love aren't just easily summed up - and right now that just feels a little cheap. But where I am now, I'm trying to write more. And curse more (I mean, not curse more, just curse like I do in my head. And not care so much about offending everyone because, lets be honest, sometimes 'fuck' is just the realest word that there ever was.)

Come with me. I cant promise it will be fun, but I can say we'll all in this together. And the only way we'll make it out alive is to crack our broken hearts open to each other and let each other in - no matter how messy and beautiful that may be. I want to talk less with 'themes' and more just real life. And I want your feedback. And stories. And input. Lets start a conversation about vulnerability. Lets get into the nitty-gritty of each others hearts and souls and journeys and quit playing it safe. We need each other. Desperately.