When I took my clothes, it wasn’t because I wanted to; it was because I trusted you enough to.
But when I took my clothes off I didn’t expect you to crinkle your nose in disgust at the sight of me.
You could have tried to look beneath the physical, look into my eyes, at the girl that is me, the girl I really want to be.
But you couldn’t. So I ran. And I took my clothes with me. Not after you had ripped them apart.
When I take my clothes off, I just want you to hug me and tell me it would be alright.
It is one story, one person; you are never going to find the same two in one place again.
So when I take my clothes off, I sure as hell expect you to do so too.
When I take my clothes off, you better bring a blanket and tell me to cover up.
And then I met S.
Actually S was there all along.
S showed me what it meant to take off your clothes, to be empty and exposed.
S would never judge. Only correct and right the wrongs.
I didn’t realise I could feel this comfortable around S.
Heck, we didn’t even need a blanket.
When I took my clothes off, with the idea that I was never going to be good enough, the hug and pep talk from S, telling me it would be okay, was worth it.
Fuck It! Who am I kidding? They said I could never be fixed! Let me just die.
And S said, ‘they can’t be fixed, not you b’ because S saw past their myopic eyes.
I didn’t expect to feel that good when I took my clothes off, but S told me there was nothing to be ashamed of.
“But S, they told me I was nothing and that I was damaged and that I was trash”, I said, with tears in my eyes.
S told me I was beautiful and that they were the messed up ones. “They have no idea what a wonderful person you are”, said S, “I can see it, others can see it. I know they can too, they just can’t handle it”
And even when I came back and took my clothes off with all the bruises and shit, S couldn’t even cry or say anything any more. I am sure S thought it would probably better if I took some time off and cried my eyes out. Alone.
But S came back, like always. Because S knows what it means to be bare. Even when it felt like I was going to die from the cold, S was always there, with a blanket or a shirt.
“You are perfect. You are beautiful. Nothing is damaged.”, says S. “I can’t keep saying these things. You have to believe me and see them too. Trust me I won’t lie.”
I still feel insecure and scared taking off my clothes now. The cold hits my bones and my eyes sting from all the tears. Sometimes I can’t deal with all the vulnerability.
But S says I’m strong and I don’t yet know my strength.
I believe S.
So now, when I take my clothes off, I do so with a smile.
Because S says eventually I would be fine.