𝐟ý𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐛𝐫æ𝐜

Once I was told I was “too much.” ⁣

Too vocal. Too loud. Taking too much space. ⁣

And so began the shaming into Smallness. ⁣

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To keep another’s secrets safe you have to be small, and scared... and silent. ⁣

And invisibility becomes complete. ⁣

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But my blood did not run blue: it is Red; the colour of flames. Of rage. I have been starving for too long and my hunger is no longer a thing of shame. This fire in the belly is rising. ⁣

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“Nice girls don’t get angry.” ⁣

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The safety valve has broken. My “too much” no longer locked and contained and it’s the angry wolf released to roam... and she is ravenous. 🐺 ⁣

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My love and light has a darkness at its edge. The shadowland where I sheltered the embers until the burning could begin. Maybe you were right to fear my hunger; this anger will hurt — but it can also heal. ⁣

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Either way, I will not away into smallness, starvation and silence again. The pyre is lit and I will dance around the leaping flames... and glory in my too much. ⁣

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* 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴. 𝘖𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦.⁣

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