My big heart and I
I speak without thinking and calm down minutes later. I'm calm now, but last night I cried all the tears that God gave me. In the past I was so used to being taken advantage of, to have to be selfish in order to command respect. Then I abandoned shame and doubt and fear and embraced my stupid big heart and felt home and comfort for the first time. The warmth that made me whole again removed the fear of uncertainty. The intensity, both good and bad, was all worth it for me. All good and bad times where tears speckled my face, I never once regretted it.
I've learned to embrace foolishness. I fear the possibility of abandonment, but I fear living a life void of passion much more. I write in words because speaking feels so abrasive when my heart can barely stay within my chest.
My heart burns so intensely and my shoulders go rigid and that's all something I've learned to love about myself. I can't fathom a life where I'm not so stupidly passionate, a life where I can't just pick up the phone and know that love is on the other line, where even when I'm sad, there's the beauty of hope to keep me company.
On October 21, 2022 at 3:16 AM, I wrote this half awake (of course, I was crying):
it's october and the air is starting to cool down
i'm afraid and the moon scowls
the moon sits and watches me stain my
sweater with tears and burns so bright as if to
say "can't you see i'm watching over you?'
i want so badly to believe in the moon
but the emptiness that i feel while it glares at
me makes it hard
i've never been so sure before
it would be a disservice to you and i if i forced it
i want someone to be so sure about me the way i am about them and while i do want that from
you i cant force you to do the same i rather it happen organically
why can't we both look at the same moon and feel this love?
was the moon never enough?
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art -- maggie cnossen / @girlswithhobbies
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