i don’t remember when i got so scared.
of sharing. of speaking my truth. of life itself.
i don’t remember forfeiting my happiness. i just remember waking up one day with a vague idea of having lost something.
i don’t remember fanning out the fire of my character till it glowed so dim as to be easily forgotten.
i don’t remember when doubt crowned himself the king of all decisions.
i don’t remember embarrassment building me a house to live in, a house to never leave.
somewhere along the way, the fiery, opinionated, passionate, mover of a girl i was, (am), decided to play a really long, really difficult game of hide-and-go-seek. every time i thought i found her, it turned out i had only stumbled on the echo of her.
i used to laugh all the time. i used to crack jokes over jokes over jokes. i dipped into my weirdness openly, showcased it for friends and family and newcomers alike. i enjoyed the awkwardness, the oddities of my personality and character. i rejoiced it. i knew no one like me simply because there was no one like me.
then, i stumbled. my ego hissed at me: “no one will like you. what are you doing here? what did you just say? dear god, why did you just say what you just said?”
so i tried on pieces of personalities i liked, absorbed well received traits of others like a vortex. i worried so much and so well over things like “do they like me?” and “if i do/say/act like that he and she and all of them won’t like me anymore. they’ll think i’m weird.” the real me got scared. she hid and stayed hidden.
yesterday, i danced in an empty house for ten solid minutes,
giggling like a five year old laughing the whole time. unfavorable thoughts snuck their way into the happy space i created. i stopped laughing. my ego found my self dancing freely and said, “um, do you know how stupid you look right now?”
my self faltered. stopped flailing. arms found tighter, more controlled movements. legs suddenly preferred mere shuffling over jumping and swinging. my self apologized. then, thought further, and corrected herself: “oh, fuck it.” wild limbs were wild once more.
the people i find myself admiring the most present their whole selves. all those flaws and all those beauties. they don’t apologize for who they are. they just are.
i used to be like that.
which means i can be that, again.
it means i can move out of the house embarrassment built me. it means i can coop d’etat doubt right off his throne. it means i can relight my fire, let it burn and burn. it means i can be happy again. it means i won’t be the wrong kind of scared.
it means, simply, i can be me.
(p.s: thanks for your anxiety tips. using them next time i feel all kinds of uncomfortable!)