I miss things that I can’t put into words because I don’t know how. Correction – because some things just aren’t meant to be worded. Some things are just felt, and felt so strongly that the mere thought of nailing them down to the alphabet realm, is too much. Because these feelings are too much. But this “too much” is so so beautiful too because we’ll never be given more than we can handle – that’s just not in the works. What is in the works is us, experiencing, feeling, and breathing each day in and out these precious breaths that we’ve been given to breathe. And fear is an ocean away, and Lexapro can go to hell because every place and every person who has taught me not to hurt and cry and feel and jump with joy, and that certain ways of being aren’t allowed and won’t be loved, well they were leading with their fear and not their joy. And they probably didn’t know it. We are scared to be moved yet we’re scared to stand still and we’re scared of rejection yet scared of the death of the things that make us who we are that no one else can know. If I didn’t know any better I might even say that we’re scared to exist. Well I don’t want to be and I’m done with numbing drugs and swallowing throat lumps and making announcements from under the rug when I’d rather be up on a chair. If a way to be feels right to me, then it’s an okay way to be.