I’ve been living apologetically. Trying not to move about too much, take up too much space, make too much noise, laugh too loudly, voice my own opinions. Keeping my elbows tucked in, out of people’s way, being polite, being good, being right, not being wrong. Saying what I should be saying, doing what’s expected of me. Adapting. Fitting in. Flattening my awkward conspicuousness, suppressing, hiding, smiling, in order to belong. Even editing my own thoughts and desires. Burying myself so deep, I don’t even remember who I am. Because surviving was most important. The first task at hand.
I want to stop. It’s time to stop. Apologising for my existence has no place in life. No place in living. No place in being a mother or a lover or a friend. If I even know how to be a lover anymore. If I even know how to be a true friend. If I even remember how to love. To trust. To be open. I want to be. I want to take this heavy, cast-iron fear and set it on fire. Beat it, stamp it, shape it. Transform it into something I can live with. Something I can stomach. Something nourishing. Something that can run through my veins and give me warmth. Colour. Light. Life. Love.
1 comment:
That's RIGHT.
:D
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