I can’t help but say the words I cannot say

I can’t help but say the words I cannot say.

Every time something begins to begin to be fun someone seems to stop it out or ruin it. Now I am not saying I don’t have fun, but it seems to be the simple things that are most fun.

Every time I think I can break my shell someone seems to come and tape it up, 

“Nope you aren’t really ready to be you yet let me spackle on some more doubts and fears and insecurities for you to deal with.”

Really, I thought I had enough already? 

But if you say so, go ahead pile them on, no really I don’t mind, I am just timid little Sarah who listens and agrees and shuts up when told to. 

If I can’t talk about it with you who can I talk too? 

I can trace this back to the beginning. 

I’ve always wanted to be an actress and instead of encouraging me to try, my parents encouraged me to pick a “more sensible path.” Which really is fine, I get it. They encouraged me and helped me a lot and they still do, but I think that is the first time I was told to change and I did. But I can’t, I love theater, I really do I can’t even imagine my life without it. It moves me. I need it and now I am in school for at least another year to get that degree when I knew that was what I wanted to do since I was 8. 

(But my parents really are awesome)

The second major crushing blow to my being me happened in high school. I was quiet in high school and didn't cuss and had hopes of still being a virtuous soul when I graduated. I wasn’t, I wasn't at all. 

Peer pressure sucks, once in junior high myself and some friends were on the playground and they were trying to get me to say, Mother Fucker. Now I can say, type, spit, yell, scream that word with no problem, then it was different story. I said mother with no hesitation, but when it came to the f bomb, no such luck. 

Anyways flash forward to high school, I don’t remember exactly what year it was probably freshman or sophomore my high school boyfriend and I were at a secluded spot on the edge of town and his car had a sunroof. After what I am sure was an intensely tame lame make out session, I opened his sunroof and proceeded to sit on top of his car and sing loudly. He asked what I was doing and then we got into a fight. Why were we fighting? Oh because I wasn't being the timid little Sarah he “loved.” 

When he said I don’t know about the new you I formed a shell to live in as the real me, the loud Sarah who likes to dance crazy even while shes sober, the Sarah who isn't scared to stand up for herself or others, the Sarah who can express and back her opinion with ease. 

I melted into the seat of that charcoal Eclipse faster than butter in a skillet, I probably said something like Okay sweetie and then I probably shut up and held his hand as he sped me home. 

Occasionally, someone can break the shell and I have fun, but almost immediately I get put back inside before I can even gather the pieces of the shell to destroy them. Even when I try to storm off someone comes to find me, they won’t even let me brood, they know I am too nice.

Mother Fuckers. 

It still happens even now, people who I love keep patching the holes over so I can’t escape. I guess it would be people I love who want to keep me the same, but I can’t and I know it’s only a matter of time before I get out. 

I know I have someone with a pick axe on my side and maybe, just maybe if I can dance and yell loud enough I can get out.