I am so tired of those ashamed.
I love freckles, scars, and bruises and any sort of contusion. I am constantly in wonder of people and bodies and I don't hesitate to share myself with those I connect with. People sharing lips on couches and in ice frosted cars, being hurt and living the pain, finding pieces of smell on clothes reminding you I was there; these are all wonderfully beautiful to me and hiding such sensational thrills is beyond anything I can comprehend.
Why can't others be more like me? I bet that now you see me as a rhetorical asshole, and if that's the case I'd love it said to my face.
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