I'm Playing with Fire

Dear Diary,

I fucked up! It’s true! If you play with fire you get burned. And I’ve been playing. I’m so burned.

I’m wrecked in my torn stockings and my ratted up shirt. I’ve got flawed judgment and imperfect moments. So many of them!

And I hear what you are saying! I hear you telling me to tidy up, make it neat, clean up your mess! You want it done and they want it done now.


“Such a wreck, such a shame, that girl.” I hear your clicking tongues and shaking heads. I hear your judgment and I hear your demands. I hear the insistence that I handle my shit according to your rules, your timeline. I see your agenda and I smell your fear!

I hear it and I feel SORRY for your perfection.  SORRY!  I am sad for your tidy sorted out lives. I lay here broken and scratched up, bruised and confused.  My eyes are swollen and red and I am happy!

I am deliriously happy that every day I give myself permission to make mistakes, to be hurt, to be embarrassed, to show up, to show my ass and to fail. I’m failing so big! I’m failing spectacularly at things you don’t dare to attempt! I’m knee deep in fantastic failures!

I believe in my messy messed up self enough to know that what is meant to be will be! I embrace the mess and the mistakes. Do I seek them out? Not intentionally, but I don’t run from them either.

I am learning. I am growing. That’s what matters! It is my character, my integrity, my love and my compassion that I value. Not my resume, my possessions, my clothes, my postcard perfect relationships or my house. I am no more perfect and no less flawed than anyone else, but I am happier. Because I am not afraid to let myself live openly, with honesty, covered in beautiful scars enjoying the happy mistakes that make the trip memorable.

I am Kitten Holiday.

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