I realize I've shrunk myself.
I knew I'd done it and why. I was hiding in the corners, hoping not to be seen. I was afraid of attacks -- every kind of attack. What's more, I was not worthy of taking up such space.
Not only out of sight, but I didn't dare make any noise either. Even sound waves were dangerous things... Alerting people to my unworthy existence. Not only those I might make, but those I might listen to.
I realized that today when I returned home and switched the radio on.
Whose volume setting was this? This was not loud enough to sing along to, or even to move your hips to. This was a whisper someone would have to silently should crouch beside to hear -- should crouch silently beside to hear. Why would someone do this? It's crazy!
So I turned the volume up -- perhaps as loud as I once listened to, sung along with, danced to; perhaps not. Who knows? It might even be louder now.
But I refuse to crouch in silence straining simultaneously to hear and not be heard, in some sort of limbo of painfully contradictory wistful needs.
Why would I let him, let all those complicit to his violence who further victimized me, why would I let any of them take music from me?!
I am worthy of enjoying music. I am worthy of blasting it as loudly, as obnoxiously, as I fucking-well want.
I am alive.
Why not embrace it -- expand myself -- and reclaim the auditory, emotional, and physical space that I as a living human being am entitled.