My tongue is in my hand…

I think I would feel free

Posted on: May 23, 2011

All the things that press on me, that press upon me, press into this: I want to be able to easily sum up for you what it was to grow up how I grew up, all it did to me, all it meant. I want to smoothly and fully explain, let you see why I made certain decisions I made, all the clockwork behind the scenes, why I did or didn’t do certain things, why I am where I am, I want to show that I know I am not where I should be, but I have a good defense for how I ended up here.

But there are always far too many words. As if I feel I bear this burden of proof and I have to pull out all the evidence of my life. It never comes out right, I can never get the whole picture into one clean scene.

So no one knows what I want them to know, what I need them to see. About who I am and who I seem. About where I was going and where I ended up. About what I learned. About why it’s so hard to move from where I am.

I just feel ashamed, I guess. I recognize my inauthenticity. I know myself. I know all these things that I can’t tell because I just can’t figure out how.

I know it would change everything if I were really who I was. I have no idea if that would be good. But I think I would feel free.

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