An open letter to those outcast by old friends and rigid families.
When you begin becoming who you are. When you begin unraveling, the armour of who you used to be will shatter at your ankles. Those who love you, or those who loved you, will pick the pieces up and try to put them back. They don't know the person underneath, they don't want you to change. When you answer your instinctual woman, it pours light on all the places they are not answering. When you follow that wildness echoing from your blood, they remember that they refused the call. They want you to stay the same, so that they may always understand you, so that the particular lines they drew around you will always fit. But when you grow outside the lines, you become messy to them. You become uncontrollable. You become more than what they ever planned for you to be. You threaten their small lives. But be more, always be more. They just want you smaller than them, so they don't have to live in the shadow of a woman who has become the sun herself.