I love to be loved for my imperfections. The ones I so hard try to hide. That love gives me permission to be flawed, to be me, not the one on stage, rather the one I really am; imperfect, mistake maker, irrational at times, absurd at others.I love it when my apologies suffice, when acknowledging I was wrong is enough. When my fears don’t scare, my slips are enjoyed and my insecurities accepted.
I love the chance to be who I am and to be loved because of it, flawed, imperfect, me. No more and no less, just who I am.