Nakedness Sn1

My nakedness hangs, throbs and oscillates freely like a bob on a pendulum. My nakedness is oblivious of what you think about it. My nakedness hates darkness but every time it peeps on the outside it’s met by critical eyes and standards that limit how far it can ever stretch. My nakedness goads me in the insides scratching my body, soul and spirit for any viable points of exit. My nakedness is a slave to my constant pursuit of perfection.
My nakedness is no longer willing to remain in my shadow. So today I called my ‘I Threes” to debate on whether to unlock the chains and let my nakedness free as it used to be before I became mindful of what friends and foes will say if they could see the bit I’ve always kept in the shadows.
My body thinks being maskless reveals too much. It says your flaws are to be hidden, your scars are a painful reminder of all the hurt you’ve been through and these thoughts will drag you back into the mess you were before. Ooh look at your thighs, can’t you see the stretchmarks? You want them to see how bogus you were? You want to lose all this beauty just because your nakedness has been threatening you? Ahh don’t be stupid, strangle it, break it into pieces and let it rot in the pit of your stomach. It doesn’t deserve a chance?

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