My muse gazes into my eyes and says two words.
Fear grips me. “But what if they don’t like it?”
He shakes his head. “Your real question is, ‘What if they don’t like you?’ You’re afraid that not liking it means not liking you. Right?” He tilts his head like a professor awaiting the student’s answer.
“Right.”
“I’ve been down that road. It’s long and bumpy. But in the end, it’s the better way to go, regardless of how painful it seems. And no matter what happens, I’m on your side.”
He repeats them: “Be authentic.”
“Okay. Here I go.”
Fear grips me. “But what if they don’t like it?”
He shakes his head. “Your real question is, ‘What if they don’t like you?’ You’re afraid that not liking it means not liking you. Right?” He tilts his head like a professor awaiting the student’s answer.
“Right.”
“I’ve been down that road. It’s long and bumpy. But in the end, it’s the better way to go, regardless of how painful it seems. And no matter what happens, I’m on your side.”
He repeats them: “Be authentic.”
“Okay. Here I go.”
