vulnerability

If I show you all my demons, and we dive into the deep end,

Would we crash and burn like every time before?

Isn't vulnerability a virtue? 

The love that reaches into my chest and swirls around my heart when I open up, the comfort that radiates from my limbs when I rest my head on your shoulder, and the way I would never trade it for anything else.

I laugh and dance and sing with all my heart when I am with you. I feel at home, comfortable, and myself. I don't feel like a sword hangs above my head, waiting to shatter me into pieces the moment I am too much or too little. You say that I'm enough. All of you say that I am perfect as I am, as I do the same for you.

Imagine, if I wasn't vulnerable. My smile would be caged behind a cyclone of reticence and emotions that make no sense to a person who wants to love. My laugh would be a giggle, ashamed to be freed into the dark and scary world. My voice wouldn't reach its highest octaves to sing with you, and I definitely wouldn't embarrass myself by dancing.

I wouldn't have told you of my heartbreak, then. Perhaps, I would have wallowed and disappeared into a void of my own where nothing seemed like it mattered. Maybe I would never find comfort in myself, the sorrow and pain engulfing me into an endless sea of hopelessness. Yes, the pain would be less. But wouldn't the love be a lot lesser?

But I am vulnerable. All my emotions are right in front of you—there for you to slaughter or nurture, which was never my choice. It was always yours. Possibly you will care for them. Maybe, you will care if tears shine in my eyes or a smile graces my face. Obviously, there's a chance you will hurt me irreversibly.

Quite honestly, I don't care.

The joy and love that fills me to the brim when I laugh with you is something I am never willing to bargain for possible pain. So, here I am. My heart on my sleeve, my head in the clouds. Where are we walking next?