I can’t make you love me, if you don’t….

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.-Helen Keller

In that world, you’ll be able to rise in the morning with the spirit you had known in your childhood: that spirit of eagerness, adventure and certainty which comes from dealing with a rational universe.-Ayn Rand

You can tell me all you want that you love me.  If you don’t like me, well, that just kills me. I’m not sure why I have such a need to be liked. To be admired. To be listened to. I think I have a good heart. A good mind. Arms to hold you. Tell you everything will be okay. Tell you that life is what you make it. You can make it good or shitty. It’s your choice.

I’m not a one dimensional person. There are so many parts that I don’t let you see. There are certainly parts of me that you won’t like. Won’t understand. That’s okay. There are parts of me that I don’t understand. That I don’t like. It’s true of people that I love and care for. Parts of them drive me crazy too. Isn’t that what love is about though? Overlooking the bad parts and loving the good parts? Dealing with the baggage?

But what is this need for validation? To put myself out there? To say, Hey look at me. I’m fucking fantastic! I’m sparkly girl and I am the SHIT! Can’t I just sit back and take everything in? Just be? It’s all I’ve really wanted to do. Just be. Be happy in my solitude. My silence.

Unfortunately I’ve never had a silent mind. Or mouth. They both have always raced. Been on overdrive. My brain comes up with the weirdest shit. That I then must speak or write about. My mind and my words have offended people in my life. Which was never my intent. My plan was to entertain. To make you think. To make you aware. To make you laugh your ass off. I like to get the reactions that I get. It doesn’t mean that I have a mental problem. That I’m acting out. It just means, well, nothing. Really. it’s just how I’m made.

I am not ashamed. I am more than the sum of the words that I type on a blog. I am more than the sum of my parts. My blondeness. My rudeness. My ability to say the word fuck and get away with it. I am so much more than a four letter word.

I’m me. I’m Nae. I’m Sparkly Girl. I’m a Domestic Goddess. I’m a wife. I’m a crazy Momma. I’m a great friend.  I give advice to the lovelorn Renaissance Boy who texts me out of the blue about the love of his life.  How he got my number, I’ll never know. I’m a daughter. A sister. An Aunt. A lover.

If you love me, great. If you like me, that’s even better. Hang out with me. I’m sure we’re bound to have some incredible adventures together. I mean isn’t that what life is all about anyway? Living like it’ll end?

18 thoughts on “I can’t make you love me, if you don’t….

  1. Candor should be packaged and sold. You certainly have the gift for it. I think you would really like the writer Anne Lamott. You might be even more open than she is and that’s pretty wide. Loved the piece and I’m sure you’re liked by many. I like you and we’ve never even met.

    • Thanks Susannah for the kind compliment. I like you too. Maybe someday we’ll meet. You just never know. I think you’re beautiful by the way. I am loved by many. That I’m thankful for. I looked up Anne Lamott. I liked her immediately. I don’t know if I’m as open as her, but I like the comparison, so much. Thanks again.

  2. … accept you as who you are? Hug all your baggages, attributes (whether it be negative or positive)?

    Renee, I love you already. The whole wonderful YOU. Hope to meet you soon or in another lifetime! 🙂

    • Honey that is so sweet. I know I love you too. We can meet here every day! And someday maybe we will in IRL. I speak from the heart, honey. I’m so glad it flows freely to my fingertips and on the screen. Keep reading my sweet.

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