Unbridled

I've always been better about feeling than about talking.

I've always been better about talking than about thinking.

But lately, I noticed I've been thinking more, feeling less, and talking nonsensically.

I've lost sight of me; of who I'm meant to be, of who I want to be, of who I am.

And that needs to change.

Because I've been stifling myself. 

I've been putting myself in a box I don't belong in, in my efforts to simply belong.

I've been quieting my voice, 

because my voice is loud.  

Unhindered and wild and unruly.

Borderline obnoxious.

But I'm not supposed to be anything but that. 

After all, my name is Heard. I mean, how am I supposed to escape that?

Yet that's what I've been trying to do.

I am loud. I am passionate. I am borderline obnoxious.

But borderline obnoxious people are the kinds of people who change things.

I will be an unbridled whirlwind of passion and color. 

Bursting.

Spinning.

Exploding, even.

I want to know love.

You know, the kind that you feel in your stomach,

in your fingers and your palms,

in the bottom of your feet,

and it boils and rises in you, until it blossoms out of your throat in some radical form of expression.

I want to know it, daily.

I'm not meant to be in a box. Maybe that means I'm not meant to belong. 

But that's ok. 

Because I wonder if it's better to not belong and be who you are, 

than belong and be just a someone.