Make a Mess of Reality

I'm afraid our world has forgotten grace. Whispers, stares, and crooked looks- why can't we learn love? We all carry our past in bags sealed so tightly. Our stories are shoved in boxes placed on shelves we never dust off. We hide our realities from those we encounter daily... We plaster on smiles, and force ourselves to conform to what "they" tell us is appropriate. What if we decided to be honest? What if we decided vulnerability was admirable? What if tears were as commonly shared as laughter? What if we let ourselves unpack a little and let ourselves be real? I want to know your story. I want to love your story. I don't understand where we learn to judge so readily. Our world assumes, it never asks questions. It hastens to conclusions before the plot unfolds. Tell me a story, tell it from the beginning. And don't leave out the parts you're so afraid for this world to see. Because those are the parts that led you here, that made you who you are. No one can know light if they haven't been trapped in darkness. No one can know freedom without first being chained. It's pain that teaches us what joy is. It's brokenness that leads us to appreciate restoration. I don't want to only know the glory of today. I want to know the fragile pieces that made yesterday worth leaving behind. We all have stories. We all know heartache. We all know what it means to be human. But we live in a world that refuses to forgive us of our humanity. Can we forgive each other of being mortal and move past these masks we wear? Can we love each other enough to make peace of messy truths, instead of respecting each other too much to ask questions that could encourage us to reflect? I want to make a mess of reality.