*Warning: naughty language ahead!

I am a slut.

I also enjoy long periods of celibacy.

You’ll see me in sweatpants and baggy shirts a lot.
Wearing the most exquisite body stockings underneath.

I’m the most selfless and the most selfish person I know.

I’m a cat person.
And a dog person—defying all universal laws because I can.

I’ve got small tits—and big balls.
I’m extremely feminine and also more masculine than many a man I know.

After two years of pretty hippy outfits and loads of makeup and jewellery and the whole getup,
I just spent a year and a half without makeup and mostly in sweatpants—
Neither did much for how I feel at my core.

I’m extremely outgoing online and usually pretty introverted in real life.

I burp. Out loud. A lot.
Just thought I’d mention it.

I am not a polite person.
I don’t care much for niceties and correctness and social obligations and not stepping on toes.
I am hella respectful though, which, like genuine love, isn’t always easy to recognize by the untrained eye.

I have made tons of really stupid mistakes in my life.
And if I could go back in time and change any of it, I wouldn’t. I really wouldn’t.
(Ever wondered what genuine self-love feels like? This is it.)

I’ve never been jealous, distrusting, or insecure in my relationships.
I’ve been plenty needy on the other hand.

I don’t pacify insecurities or enable projections.
This makes me a great friend or a terrible friend—up to you.

I tend to be judgemental when it comes to small, petty shit,
Yet I am one of the most open-minded people when it comes to your biggest secrets and fuckups.

I have a massive abandonment wound.
And yet my awareness and acknowledgement of this makes me more self-sufficient, stable, and resilient than those who are yet to fully own theirs.

My sexual energy is my Vibranium,
But before fully owning and integrating enough aspects of self—it was my Kryptonite.

I’ve made him wait nearly two months—when living together.
I’ve walked up to him and asked him if he wanted to fuck.
(And if I made you guess which one ended up being a successful, long-term relationship and which one didn’t—you’d guess wrong.)

I’m usually more one of the guys,
But with the added element of sexual chemistry.

My bod is bangin’,
But it is my weirdness that makes me truly sexy.

My dancing is a seamless fusion of hip-hop, temple, contemporary, belly dance, martial flow arts, capoeira, yoga, popping, dance hall, dirty dancing, and some other dimensional shit.
I’ve given up trying to define any part of myself.

I’ve broken more hearts than I care to admit.
Also healed more than I can count.

I usually feel super awkward but I don’t feel self-conscious about my awkwardness.

I never share anything to help you or be of service.
I do it because it’s my highest excitement, aka “because I feel like it.”

I’m not humble.
This doesn’t make me arrogant—unless you say it does.

If you see me with a faint smile, I’m hiding how depressed I am.
If you see me bawling my eyes out, I probably feel great (please don’t try and pacify me).

For every person who idolizes me and thinks they love me,
There is someone who despises me and thinks I should change this or that about myself,
And every time I so much as get my hair trimmed,
These people change,
but the ratio remains the same.

I’m all of these things, and yet so much more.
I’m none of these things, because they don’t define who I am at my core,
nor my worth.

I’m a little bit of everything, all rolled into one (like sushi),
And so are you.

What you see most in me, is what begs to be integrated in you.
Both the “good” and the “bad.”

This how we become whole.
By recognizing the mirror when it stares us in the face.

By accepting our seeming paradoxes.
By uniting our apparent dichotomies.

Perfectly imperfect.
Imperfectly perfect.

Not by cutting off aspects of ourselves in order to fit in and “be good.”
But rather in declaring you are everything that everyone sees in you—
Without confusing their emotional charge around what you are for Truth.

I refuse to put myself into a box,
Just so that you feel comfortable fitting me into your narrative.

We are never this or that.
We are this and that.