i am so afraid of what other people think of me that i let them judge right from wrong.
so when you packed your bags and left them tugging at the front door, i screamed for you, i cried, i let you put my feelings into a box, label me “obsessive” and “crazy,” let you make me into the bad guy for simply reacting.
and when i asked my therapist if feeling things so strongly was right or wrong, she asked me, “what do you think?”
and i don’t remember the last time someone asked me what i thought and when i said i think i was doing the right thing by feeling she said, “then you are.”
and now the times i’m grieving, i try to remember that my opinion means something. that i have to value it, value it more than anything. because once you value your own feelings, no one can invalidate them. you can’t tell me what makes me brave. i think feelings are supposed to be felt. you can no longer pressure me into shutting them out.
— i’m not crazy just because you say i am