I’m tired of being treated like a mouse.
Expected to squeak and scurry from the shadow of the cat.
I’m tired of the cravings and fears and emotions and other traps that try to pin me down by the neck.
I’m tired of being told what I should think and say and do.
Don’t tell me not to be angry. Anger is an emotion; and I have every right to feel it. It’s what I do with it that matters. If I write a bad word, it lets it out; and then it’s gone.
If I run up the side of a mountain or lift heavy, I can sweat it out; and the anger disappears, so I can be myself.
My real self.
I might look like a mouse.
But I have a lion’s heart.
And I’m not afraid of the damn cat.