There is so much I didn't realize I already knew about life embedded in the simple act of just LIVING. Not the act of going through the routine, the mantra of life, but releasing all pre-judice and limitations and just BEING. I'm finally able to wear my curls. Guilt-free and I live I can stand with a mane atop my mountain and allow it to be... loose. I'm free. Let's take a step back:
Growing up I never had the confidence necessary to do what I am doing right now.
Being me.
Myself.
Who is that?
The entity that encompasses all of my emotions and insecurities yet flawlessly appears untouched. I am for once OK with who "I" am. I wear my curls because they are apart of me.
As a teen, I wouldn't dare wear an untamed exaggeration of beauty unless it had been dried, flattened, sheened, spritzed, combed and maintained. I would never have been brave enough to allow the air dictate my appearance as it whisked through the cool pores on my scalp and dried my ends into a fluffy splendor.
NEVER.
But why now?
I'm no different, I'm the same person I have always been. I guess I just stopped caring about the person "I" thought "they" thought that "I" was....whoever "they" is, really doesn't matter; because "I" have actually always been my toughest critic.
If that makes any sense. "We" decided that ourselves is good enough and worthy enough to be "us" all the time.
I love my curls.
NO they aren't perfectly spiraled, nor will they ever be.
YES they are frizzy and frantic, but aren't we all? YES they define me.
Now that I have my curls I can finally see. My third eye has awakened to find the light that was trying to shine through...restricted.
I am not ashamed to be who I have always been. "ME". The light.
