Sharing the Book

As I ponder some of my questionable behavior (the early am beer, I'm sorry but it's just one and it's really tasty) it occurs to me: how much information is too much? How much do you reveal, what do you hold back? Should I carefully craft the story of my existence with severe and disciplined edits, or do I let it flow, stream-of-consciousness, like a waterfall that springs from my soul?
My concern has been: if you truly know me, what will you think of me? And I wonder if I will be loved for the self that happens organically, or for the story others weave about me, gleaned from my carefully chosen words, my artfully posed actions.
If I could express, articulate, what is actually sprung from my mind...how will you see me, and how will that affect your perception?
I have roles, I play them well; I do not find this incongruous with my dedication to reality because not everyone is deserving of meeting the silent witness, the observer, the pilot of my soul.
But for those whom I care, those whom I feel just might...really want to know...I wonder, do I open my life like a book and let them browse, study, pour over it knowing there are secrets that will be cracked, exposed, laid bare for scrutiny?
Whereas I am no fan of rejection, I have kept it closed, this tome, this bible, this book of self, wherein lies all faults and joys and defects and righteous musings.
Shall I pop the lock, flip the cover, flop it down on the coffee table?
Will I?

Les Bon Mots

I used to rely on the words, their fixed blackness standing out on the stark white screen somehow made them immutable and permanent and meaningful. They are powerful, they are real. But they are only WORDS. Words without actions are gossamer thread, pretty and useless.

I used to rely on my guts, my emotional reaction, my deep understanding, my outward expression of love. And that my transparency would make me understood and make everything else right. But I have exposed myself forever, the heart on my sleeve served only to induce others to target practice. And some of you were a pretty good fucking shot, weren't you?

I used to think that being honest with everyone was the way fix everything, let's talk about and get to the bottom of it...but, but...I never got up from the bottom.

So....now I still have words, they are amazing and amusing, and they remain on the page. They may move me but only to reply.

And I still have my truth, it's inaccurate and occasionally bitter, but it's mine.

And I will share my love, but only with you who know my heart, because you ask, because you DO, because you will call me and make sure I'm still alive. I will only love the ones who love me back.

And you all know who you are.