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“I see you, flawed and humble and road weary and proud and still in spite of the deep ache, somehow sure you’ve done all you can. I see all you feel but cannot speak. I see the way the words grow and swell, expanding your chest and pressing against the confines in your throat until they form the most unbearable pain, and the air around you so heavy with the weight of words unsaid. I see the way your chest caves in and your shoulders curl around and your arms hold your knees so tight that you circle in upon yourself. I see how in spite of this you are expanding, even though others wish you small and in spite of your own efforts to keep peace. I see that you are a wild thing, not meant for containment.” — Jeanette LeBlanc
I see you, flawed and humble and road weary and proud and still in spite of the deep ache, somehow sure you’ve done all you can.
I see all you feel but cannot speak. I see the way the words grow and swell, expanding your chest and pressing against the confines in your throat until they form the most unbearable pain, and the air around you so heavy with the weight of words unsaid.
I see the way your chest caves in and your shoulders curl around and your arms hold your knees so tight that you circle in upon yourself.
I see how in spite of this you are expanding, even though others wish you small and in spite of your own efforts to keep peace. I see that you are a wild thing, not meant for containment.