We’re all artists, painting ourselves the way we want to be seen.
We have our distorted self-portraits on display to the world, but we rarely let authenticity slip through.
But those rare glimpses, those cherished moments when the light behind my eyes is lit once again. When the desire for discussion and knowledge gets the best of me.
When I just can’t hold it in and a laugh that is somewhat between a shriek and a cackle escapes my lips.
The lips that are too often silenced
Silenced by unwritten rules and hushed scolds of “That’s not how a lady speaks.”
But I am strong and I am confident.
I can sing at the top of my lungs and fight with all that’s in me
I can construct the most eloquent sentence or song; write harmonies that would blow you away.
I can’t always be strong though. My lips quiver and my hands shake and my heart beats so loud I can hear the rhythm in my ears.
I can be brave and I can be a ball of anxiety, a ball that just wants to curl up and never see the light of day again. But I need the light.
It breaks through the filter of film that I've used as a security blanket for too long. Helps melt the molds of this aesthetically based society that I've tried to shove myself into.