Confuse Not Cost With Requirement

October 24, 2026

Don't tell me what someone said. Tell me what their words made you think. Don't list books you've read or classes you've attended. Tell me how they changed you. What did you gather from them? Don't tell me where you've traveled and who you've dealt with. Tell me why. Tell me how. Tell me where you failed and why you think you did.

Tell me something about three people you notice each day on your normal routes. Three people who you only recognize in passing. Tell me about the animals along those paths. Are any pregnant? Do any have young children? Are any wounded? Tell me about the plants. Tell me about the buildings. Tell me about the shifting scents.

I don't want to hear about other persons' thoughts and life experiences as a reference to your own. I want to hear where your path causes your feet to ache. I want to hear what has crawled under your skin and taken up residence. I care not for the superficial mask placed on parade for the world to approve. I care about the guts, the fear, the hopes, and the dreams. I want to know what really makes you tick, and what you're afraid to let tock.

I want to know you — naked, beautiful, grotesque, strong, vulnerable you. Not who your parents attempted to mold you into. Not who society told you that you should be. Not who life demanded you become.

You. Simply, complicated, unobscured you.

Everything else is just window dressing, and I prefer to shop for keeps.

Not edited nor proofread.