My people.

Here’s to the ‘emotional ones’. The ones who feel all the feelings. The one’s who are labelled ‘crazy’ and ‘unhinged’ and ‘full on’.

I have always been challenged by outsiders, who see my tears as weakness. Who see my emotions as a flaw, something to be fixed, or that I have to get a handle on.

Yes, I cry at the drop of a hat, and display my emotions on my sleeve- or on my chest as a stress rash; or in my erratic body language; in the tone and volume of my voice; the many, many words I speak; the sometimes pleading desperation I can show.

I also love harder than most, see the best in everyone, give amazing hugs, am able to show support and relate to so much and feel empathy for those around me.

How lucky I am, that I get to experience every colour in the rainbow. Every feeling in the book. Every emotion there is. I get to practice. I get to feel my way through things, and discover what my limitations are.

Yet I am drawn to those people, who are afraid to open up. Who are afraid to let me in. And these people can leave me clawing at the gates, pleading to just let me show them how amazing life could be, if they lived in technicolour, not just black and white.

I feel sad for those who don’t daydream. For those who don’t imagine what their life could hold. Who they could become if they just let themselves feel into the possibilities.

I will never know what living in greyscale looks like. And maybe the people on the other side of the gate don’t need me to show them my side. They like the simplicity. They like the ease. They like the logic, and the structure and the predictability.

Here’s to the people who hang dream catchers. Who have seven thousand colourful throw pillows. Who wear rainbow nail polish. Who dare to throw their hearts on the line, time and time again for that dream they have. Who know what their ‘crying music’ is. Those people, are my people. The people who are brave enough to be their true, emotional self, no apologies required.



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