Don’t fight who you are.
I am. I am. I am.
When did the world decide what the perfect human being looked like? Acted like?
They’re early risers.
Not gluttonous, and thin.
Humans are orderly.
We will drive in traffic 5 days a week, 48 weeks a year for a job.
Don’t forget community activists, parents, joggers, book clubs, and coffee.
I am, me. My brain is messy. It’s loud in here, and it’s always on. Even my dreams are problem-solving.
I love the dawn, but not from the side you’re used to.
Night time is when I come alive, and my muse is awake then.
She sleeps during the day. She is the owl, the bat, the wolf.
When I ask why we have decided what the perfect human being looks like, I realise, I’m asking for your permission.
When I don’t need it.
I am, me, and I cannot fight myself. I won’t. There is too much in the world I need to be strong for.
I’ll fight myself no longer.
A Saturn cycle is ending, and a new one begins.
In this one she loves herself, her muse, and the night.
Throw off the shackles of humanity’s portrait of a young girl, quiet in her ways, and opinions.
Welcome the wild woman.
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Also this, Sunni Patterson’s ‘Wild Women.’