As The Rush Comes

My feelings are my own. I love that I am delicately reminded of this fact.
No matter the intensity, no matter the absurdity.
Mine.

Boundaries are endless, without judgment.
None.

I read a book (and if I can find the title and author I will post…) that redefined my emotions. If you’re sad, you’re right. If you’re mad, you’re right. If you’re hurt, you’re right. In summary, whatever you are feeling, YOU ARE RIGHT.

I AM RIGHT.

I pause for a minute and wrap my mind around this. An epiphany just bitch slapped my ass. Forgive my moment of ghetto but there is nothing else that could describe the moment of clarity that changed me.

For as long as I can remember, I have been hiding within the parameters of safety. It is the uncomfortable safety zone that plays with my emotions like a puppet. It pulls the strings of my sadness, forcing it into an awkward smile while I play the illusion of composure.

What this does is restrict my right to feel. I want to tell you, my best friend, my mom, my teacher, my boyfriend, my manager, that what I am feeling at this moment is this…….. This is what I feel. This is what I own up to. This is the rich, profound secret held within me that I am sharing with you….and somehow, I feel better.

Alongside everyone’s right to feel, we obtain freedom- emotional freedom. It is the release from the confining hold of unshared emotions. The prison we convict ourselves to lifelong burdens that we never break away from. I, myself, am a victim.

So with this gained revelation, I hope to humbly share my inner sensitivities and find receptive respect and the peace to move on.

I write this while listening to As The Rush Comes by Motorcycle.

P.S. I am enslaved with a malevolent fury seasoned with indignant rage.

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