Let’s say we’re meeting up for coffee.

You’d probably find me tucked away in a corner somewhere, ducked down behind a dim computer screen and amid a sprawling layout of notebooks and pens and texts. Chances are good that I wouldn’t notice your presence until our knees bumped under the table as you slid into the seat across from me.

I’d shuffle to put my things to the side and ask how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, where life has led you since we last spoke. We’d reminisce and laugh and share moments over coffee and John Mayer.

We’d stand, pause for a brief hug. We’d “talk soon, okay?” You’d leave. I’d get back to my work.

There’s a lovely quality of nostalgia to coffee shop dates, in my opinion. Memories gathered in sunlit corners of buildings scented by roasted beans and frothed milk. Moments of stillness in sepia tones.

But my life is comprised of coffee shop dates. Forty-five minute meetings of the minds, lasting long enough to scratch the surface of another individual’s life. Half an hour to catch up, but not enough time to see the full picture.

My life is a beautiful, messy thing – emphasis on the messy part. I think there’s a huge part of me that is concerned with the idea that outsiders look in and only see my mess. For that reason, brevity is key. I invite friends out for a short chat, tell them the best parts of my life, and then usher them out the door before they begin to notice the cobwebs and dust bunnies I’ve swept under the rug.

But at what point do I accept the fact that life is better when I’m not so concerned with filtering out the unattractive parts? How do I become comfortable allowing people to see me beyond the Instagram feed and status updates?

Here’s a quote that resonates with me on this very subject:

“Sometimes we hesitate to invite people into our life because we feel like our space isn’t good enough yet. Things are a little messy, or our place settings don’t match, or our situation isn’t quite what we want it to be. Don’t let that stop you. Invite people in anyway.”

I’m nearly 23. For some odd reason, I thought I’d have this whole life thing figured out by now. Obviously that hasn’t happened yet, so instead I’m working on coming to terms with the idea that life is not something that can ever truly be “figured out”. There’s a lot of beauty to be found in the unknown – which is where I live, most days. There also seems to be a lot of cobwebs and dust bunnies here.

Pay no mind, I’ll keep on sweeping them under the rug. I’ll keep making coffee shop dates and hoping that we really do “talk later, okay?” Hopefully I’ll get better at sharing more than just moments with people. I want to invite them in and allow them to see my life without the filters.

So just know that when I ask to meet up and grab coffee, what I’m really trying to say is “Come on in, friend. Pull up a seat and get comfortable. Don’t mind the mess. I’m a work in progress. Won’t you stay anyway?”