Palatable

When friends and parents care about you, they tell you things to protect you, to guide you, to get you to a better place where you can be more accepted and not embarrass yourself. 

but I don’t want to.

I will be spicy, full of flavor for those who enjoy that. I want to be saffron, cumin, and gochujang sauce, in your face to see if you’re OK with how I taste. 

I am not for everybody. 

I want to be real and to contribute to your thriving, your heart and your legacy. Not your deterioration, depression, weakness, addiction, comparison. Not to deplete your energy and eyesight. 

I am here to give you a light. 

To fill you with joy and inspiration, to hear you laugh and see your eyes sparkle as they fill with tears because you feel something. I want to see your hands holding a pencil, to be present when you have a new idea, to be with you when you feel like hiding. 

I pour my heart and soul into this.

I pour my anxiety sweat into this.

I wake up with spiraling thoughts at 3:30 in the morning, not to be fucking palatable but because I create this. 

I will not perform to be noticed, I will not conform to be welcomed. I will not be consumed when it is convenient. I welcome all, and I will not dilute myself to fit in with those who believe they can measure my worth with their presence. 

I give my mind, my emotions, my youth, the strength in my body to create this experience. Some days I think about it more frequently than about my own children, and I hide the guilt under my pillow next to my phone when they enter the room.

So when you come to my table, set the expectation to receive some authentic flavor, and savor the outpouring of an open heart.