I am not infallible. I only pretend. I have created this shell around me to protect my (fecund loamy black) heart. The shell is cracking. The flaws in my persona are showing. Wings protrude. I only pretend to be strong. To be a bad ass. To take care of myself. I had no choice in the matter. I had to become strong. It was become a bad ass or ??? be overpowered? give up the possibility of being who I wanted to be? a possibility I never for one considered. I never had a choice to be soft. To not take (my own) power. But being who I (thought I) wanted to be and who you are, are not the same. I only wanted others to feel free in their expression. I only wanted to be free in my expression. (Free, not push the expression to the extreme.)
O Queen of Angels, I now understand. Here in the magical arms of your asphalt streets, it doesn't matter. You have wiped our slates clean, like after a Catholic confession. We come to you with our dream, our ambitions. We leave the who we were behind, in the street of San Francisco or midwest fields of grain. Here we create who we want to be. Even if that is not who we are. An illusion based in our own reality. Empowered by you. Our hearts are broken. Our hearts are lifted. Our lives changed. We change ourselves through you. We become the self we always dreamed. Our dreams come true.
And now I am done. I have breathed your air deep into my lungs. Every cell in my body has LAified. And I am ready to change again. I have become who I wanted to be. And it is very satisfying. An achievement in itself. But perhaps that is not who I actually am. A shocking idea. Of all people, have I betrayed myself by being so true to my ideal of myself that I have missed some aspect of my authenticity? We shall see.
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