I come from a place of fear. I was not born into this place of fear and I no longer reside there. Yet the moments of fear that wash over me when I am least expecting it feel like a tidal wave I cannot escape.
I was afraid of my home, I was afraid of my choices, I was afraid of my own thoughts being judged wrong. I masked it all with a smile of naiveté. I embraced, what I knew in the depths of my soul as wrong, as right and I justified it all with a label. My label became the noose around my neck. Stifling my breathing, blurring my vision, manipulating my words. Pain wreaked havoc on my body till I could stand it no longer, pushing it back with denial.
I stopped writing. My written thoughts became my imprisoning tomb. My thoughts were bad, my ideas were wrong, my life was not my own. The empty journals were left with only the front inscription of apologies. My words left me in a whiff of smoke, I burned each word faster, almost, than I could scrawl them on the paper. Hunting private places to write and burn. It was a dark time.
I can write again. It has taken me years, multiple journals, loved ones unending encouragement, but I am back. Not the same as I was, someone different. I am confident in my chosen expression. I will not let another influence, corrupt what I have been given. I will not let another, place the seed of fear in me ever again. These are my thoughts, my own, no one else’s. They are not wrong, or bad, they are thoughts written for the world to read. You may judge the words, but I will never fear the judgment again.