Whisker Wars

I can’t grow a beard.
Well, let me rephrase. I CAN grow a beard, but it comes in all patchy and scraggly and scratchy.
On my best day, my beard looks like someone missed some spots while trimming their actual big mountain bear beard.
The patches grow in uneven and I end up looking like one of the dogs from those Sarah McLachlan SPCA commercials.
I have friends who have to shave nearly every morning, whereas I only really pick up my razor at most once a week, and that’s usually just to prevent it from gathering dust.

So no, I can’t really grow a beard. Or any good facial hair for that matter.
But what I can grow well… is attached.

And I have grown quite fond of you.
Attached to you.
And the reason I’m sharing all this is so you understand. Sometimes I’m patchy. No matter how many times I can say I like you, I can go days without ever talking to you, or anyone else. And that’s nothing against you, thats just me dealing with my own anxieties and inadequacies. Because if I’m consistently with you, that means you’re consistently with me. And all that invested time just hurts way more once it stops.
Sometimes my brain is all scraggly and I think of every possible outcome before I even make a move. I set up these Doomsday Protocols to protect my heart but in actuality it’s just a prisoner in my own chest because I’m not letting it learn from the pain itself. I’m putting the chess board away before ever taking it out of the box.
I can be scratchy. And not think before I speak and that can rub people the wrong way. I can come off as underwhelming, or worse, overwhelming. So I tippy toe around the eggshells instead of risking to walk on them at all.

But what I really want is to just be me. Be my hairless, baby faced self around you.
You make me want to risk it all. You make me want to shave off these doubts and mental procedures and just be entirely me.
Be natural.
Just let it all grow and see what happens.