Eclipse Season

I am done dealing with certain people. The ones who tell me my truth is incorrect. I tell my story, and they tell me I’m wrong. They rewrite my narrative with their own, telling me what I think and feel, and what is best for me.

How can that be?

​How can someone simply slip into my head and dare rewrite a story they’ve never seen? And why would they?

I am done placating these people. These people who replace my narrative with their own thoughts and feelings, and when told their truths are not my own, they pounce like a wild animal defending their young. Yet the thing they defend sits in my heart. 

What an odd behavior.

I am working diligently to write my own narrative, and get it right in the way that most genuinely reflects what I think and feel. What I am and wish to become. But they come for me. With their ideas and their stories with constant attempts to negate my own, with this toxic spit slipping from their lips as they denounce the story it’s taken me 36 years to write.

And will keep writing.

"How can I defend myself," I ask myself, as I turn this acidic pit in my heart.

"Don’t," she said, so freely, as if this simple truth was looking her in the face all along.

And with that, she was free.

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