Getting close.

Lately I am thinking a lot about ideal vs. real. 

Sometimes I hold up my ideal self as a shield: Love this! Isn’t it pretty? 

It’s like holding up a photograph of something unrelated to me and telling people to pay attention to it. While they are looking at that thing, my own heart goes unknown and unloved. Unchecked. It’s a deflection. 

(I think of God seeing that picture and being genuinely confused. “What is this? I have no idea who this is supposed to be.”)

I also cannot fit into the ideals that someone else has for me. The ideal of what our interactions will be like, or what our relationship is.

The real is always better simply because it actually exists. The real can be loved and held and nurtured. The real can change when change is needed. It’s not a photograph or an idea, it’s not a role or a set of laws.

Real is always better because it doesn’t disappear when you get close to it. 

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