Uncamoflaged

 "Being pure is not about pretending to be good. It is about being raw in your truth. Yes, raw—as in no frosting, no filters, no soft focus. If you came for a porcelain doll, I am not it. I am the woman who wipes the mirror with her palm and says, there, now we can see what’s actually here.

“Good” is a costume you rent by the hour. It photographs well and falls apart in the rain. Purity is what remains when the weather has its way with you. It is how your voice sounds when no one is clapping. It is the spine you stand with when applause would be convenient but honesty is correct.

I am not here to collect gold stars for being agreeable. I am here to tell the truth even when it rearranges furniture you thought was nailed to the floor. If that rattles your china cabinet, perhaps the problem is not my volume but your attachment to fragile shelves.

Let’s be clear: I can smile and still draw blood with a boundary. I can be generous and still not sponsor your habits. My kindness comes with a lock. My time has a password. If you do not know either, that is not a puzzle for me to solve.

Polite is what you do when you would rather not risk the room going quiet. Pure is what you do when the room can take a seat. I do not owe anyone a lie that goes down easy. If truth scratches on the way in, drink water.

People love a halo as long as it doesn’t cast light on their shadow. That is why so many prefer me sweet, small, and ornamental. Too bad. I am not here to decorate your denial. I am here to open windows and let the draft carry out what stinks.

My history is not up for editing to make you comfortable. If my scars make you uneasy, look at your own. If my healing looks loud, turn down the volume on your projections. I will not trade my wholeness for your quiet.

Spiritual does not mean sugar‑coated. Sacred things survive honesty. If a belief shatters because I asked a question, it was not holy—it was glassware. I pray with decisions, I worship with standards, and I meditate by saying no without a paragraph of apology.

If you want proof of what I am made of, watch what I do when flattery is on sale and integrity is full price. I pay in exact change. I will not borrow character to impress anyone. I prefer to own it.

Some people will insist that being “good” is the key to favor. They confuse obedience with alignment and fear with reverence. The universe does not hand out cookies for performing. It mirrors. And I have no interest in gazing into a reflection that shows a stranger grinning through clenched teeth.

I am not concerned with being digestible. I am concerned with being true. If honesty upsets your stomach, try smaller bites. I will not puree reality so it slides down easier. Chew.

Call me difficult if naming me helps you keep your walls intact. Labels are cheaper than growth. Meanwhile, I will be over here investing in the uncomfortable work of becoming—yes, the kind that requires returns, receipts, and accountability.

Let’s talk about boundaries. Mine are not barbed wire; they are velvet ropes. If you are on the list, welcome. If you are not, do not pout at the door like it is a moral failure. It is logistics. I have limited seating and unlimited worth.

Forgiveness does not require me to reopen the gate. Compassion does not require me to underwrite your repeated choices. I can bless you from a distance measured in miles, not minutes. That is not cruelty; that is clarity.

I have learned that truth is a clean blade. It cuts through the rot so what is living can breathe. Yes, there is stinging. Yes, there is a scar. Then there is strength right where the wound used to be. I do not hide my stitches. They are proof I did the work.

I do not audition for rooms allergic to reality. If access demands that I shrink, I prefer the open air. I will build spaces where honesty is not a liability, where laughter does not cover injuries, and where mirrors do not lie to spare egos.

So hear me plainly: being pure is not about claiming to be good. It is about standing uncamouflaged in your own light and refusing to rent yourself out to the comfort of others. It is about truth that exhales, shoulders that release, and a heart that bows only to what is real.

And when I leave a room, I want the air to feel clearer, not because I was pleasant, but because I was true—unsoftened, unborrowed, and unafraid. May my life be a steady mirror and a sturdy door: reflecting what is, inviting what’s honest, and closing with love on anything that cannot stand the light."

~ Steve De'lano Garcia