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Why are we so ashamed of our vulnerability? That in pretending we fit in, that we’re just fine, A-OK, we remain isolated in a room full of people. Disconnected instead of connected. Our living fear is realized constantly. I am always somewhat taken aback when people tell me they just couldn’t be as honest as…
There’s a story I’ve been telling myself for a very long time. And the story centers around how I don’t belong. I’m the oddball, the ugly duckling. The artist. That I’m too …whatever… to be included. And everyone must already know that I’m unworthy of their acceptance and admittance and that’s why I am alone….
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