what I do have.
“It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply.” —unknown
On days when the weight of being presses against my skin, I think: it would be so easy, wouldn’t it? such a luxury to feel less, to experience with a pastel intensity.
I’d be so brave with my words. I’d venture out into the depths of conversation with a steel cage around my heart and a megaphone against my lips as I spoke wild truths. And when answers and opinions and commentary were returned to my hungry ears, I’d smile and nod and say things like “that’s so amazing that you think the way you do.” We’d sip coffee and talk about all the extraordinary ways that our brains think in incongruences, all the ways our neurons have blazed their own brave pathways.
What I do have is the written word; and through the grace of my own special magic, language pirouettes inside this living drum.
Little by little, confidence and clarity detangle themselves from the snare of raw emotion. Words dive, one by one, from my heart, spinning wildly through my veins until reaching this precious brain.
Today I am grateful for my words—these words—that save me every day. I would die without language—smothered under the weight of all this feeling.
—this post was grown on the gram.