Too often in this world
we are told that emotion is a sign of weakness.
Be strong.
Save face.
Pride, perfection, pretending.
Put on a different face.
Don't let people know how you really feel.
Don't make a ripple in the water.
Don't cry.
Don't be sad.
Just, don't.
My whole life,
berated myself for feeling,
for feeling too much or
not enough or
feeling angry when I shouldn't
or sad when I shouldn't.
Why?
Who tells us what we can and cannot feel?
Pain knocks on all of our doors,
some everyday,
some just once in a while.
Why is that weak?
Do we ask for Pain, the visitor?
My whole life I have felt invisible
when I know there is a greatness inside of me.
An impenetrable good.
Maybe crying more than others,
maybe angrier than others,
maybe sadder than others.
But I am strong.
An innate need inside me to keep myself happy,
and those around me happy.
If you want to see me as weak through your
tiny little pinhole eyes
GO AHEAD.
I am the one
capable of admitting my faults
before you even find any.
My wrongs, my short comings,
in fact I will hand them to you on a
silver platter
because this is who I am.
Why should I feel ashamed of that?
Of not being perfect?
I'm not putting on a mask for the rest of the world
I cry, punch, spit, scream, FEEL.
Passion makes me feel alive and
I am here to live.
Without feeling I am
no where, nobody, nothing.
I cannot bear to live in a
traditional,
cookie-cutter,
paradise.
Why has society made such a perfectionist
out of all of us? Including me.
****, that.