Brie Nicole Inked

Too much, they said. Like I was something spilling over, something inconvenient. But this is how I exist. Volume turned past safe. Joy that bruises. Grief that floods. Anger that tastes metallic, sits on the tongue like blood. I used to shrink. Apologize. Swallow it back down until it burned holes in me. Not anymore. I am not smoothing my edges. Not sanding myself down into something easier to hold.

I let it move now. Unfiltered, uncontained. laughter comes out jagged, too loud for the room. Sadness settles heavy and I don’t rush to sweep it away. Anger stands upright instead of disguising itself as politeness. I let it exist in its full shape, sharp and unedited. There is no neat version of me anymore. No curated softness to make it easier for others to stay.

I am contradiction. I am overflow. I am every feeling arriving at once and refusing to stand in line. And if that makes me difficult. If that makes me heavy, so be it. I would rather be fully felt than half-erased. I would rather be whole and inconvenient than quiet and disappearing.