"That there, that's not me."
Anyone that has known me before this stifled version of myself has been sneakily living out my life for me, knows that I have a fire that burns quite hot. I have passion, I have rage, and I have love.
I wish I could say exactly when I became afraid of myself. "As sleep does, it came slowly, then all at once."
I was determined not be the person that made so many mistakes, that offended so many people. And my biggest mistake to date, was assuming that parts of me could take credit for representing all of me. I have been body-snatched. I go through the motions of being polite, respectful and appropriate for the sake of everyone else. I would get so furious at myself for letting the old me occasionally slip through the barricades. Usually the security guard of my true self would get a little lazy in the aftermath of a few intoxicants. After a thorough reprimand, good behavior was reinstated throughout the land.
FUCK GOOD BEHAVIOR.
I am a goddamn lion. You can't dress a lion up like a fucking turtle and expect that shit to fly.
To get raw for a change...(sarcasm emoticon here), I have been having a shit-tastic couple years. Voluntarily stepping away from toxic people and simultaneously mourning the metaphoric death of these discredited staples of my life-long existence can really put a damper on your day-to-day. Being afraid of my own intensity has left me about as interesting as belly button lint.
Now that I am in...dun dun DUN...therapy, I have a refreshed perspective. I can no longer shun myself for being true to myself. I can no longer pretend to be a socially acceptable, ever courteous, well mannered shell of the personality that is welded to my entire sense of being.
Getting older is truly a mind-fuck in most aspects. I do not appreciate several unwanted slaps with the gravity-stick, the party tolerance of a grandmother, or the habitual disdain for those even a half decade younger than I. However, I do welcome this necessary fear of consequences that tends to escort maturity. You always must be careful when playing with fire and I think, I hope, that I have passed this LONG, BORING, UNEVENTFUL safety course appropriately titled "Self Deprecation 101".
That said, I have had it with being my own security guard, my own warden, my own judge, juror and executioner. I am delightful. I am a handful. I am kind and I am a fucking bitch. I am loyal, I am honest, and I am over this lull. It's hard to accept yourself, with a voice constantly telling you that you're shit. It's a struggle for me and for many people. To be your own worst enemy is no way to live this short life.
So here I make my stand, to the abstract internet audience, or lack there of. I make a stand to myself, to my friends, and to the ones who have stood by my side as I walked around in my own shadow, consequently covering them as well. I make my stand because if I don't, I fear I will lose this fire, this element of life. Now or never, take it or leave it. I'd rather roar so loud it hurts than tuck my head in my own shell and just shit around my cage.
