I want to rebel like an angsty teen. To flip tables and scream at the top of my lungs. Drive across the country, live off of canned food, and sing sad love songs on a broken ukulele. I want to swim in a dirty lake, sink my feet into the gooey mud—slather the mud on my body like lotion. To sing off-key, jump off cliffs, laugh a little too loudly. I want to see a damn solar eclipse without feeling guilty about the time “wasted.” To see a life moldable, not rigid, enclosed, suffocating.

Here, see the confines of a mind that craves stability, order, and pattern. A body that becomes irregular with too much exercise, too much stress, wacky sleep schedules. A heart that cares and gives and torments. A soul that searches and wants.

Isn’t it liberating to break down in tears? And cry until you’re left bloated, puffy eyed, and exhausted? And then piece yourself back together the next morning with a smile, and a heavy application of concealer and eye liner?

On the days when I am less than lovely, will you love me just the same? If I start screaming right now, would you leave me hoarse and broken…   or scream with me?

Some thoughts ❤