Sometimes I want to rip the smile off my own face.
The smile that glitters like golden sunlight.
It's not that it's fake, it's that it conceals a lot.
Emotions bubble for days behind the grin of my white pearly teeth.
Tears transmuted into smiles.
Anger changes into bright laughter.
But not really---it's hidden; cleverly masked so that the world cannot see.
Because that is my worst fear--someone seeing behind the thin veneer of this sweet, champagne bubbliness and knowing how badly I want to cry.
But why fear it?
For it is the truth.
And that is why, for me, sometimes the greatest freedom is to give myself permission not to smile.
To smile when it's genuine, oh yes indeed, and let that shine out brilliantly like the pure love it is.
But when my lips want to hang in sorrow, in fear, in confusion; when my eyes are blurry and not beaming, only shining silently with a tsunami tears--
That's beautiful too.
That is, in fact, powerful.
The freedom to not smile.
The bravery to do something different.
To leave my house with sorrow wiped all over my face, not in a romantic way---in a raw messy way.
To let the world see me undone, unhinged. No makeup on. Hair unbrushed. Nothing pinned to perfection.
To let the world see my sorrow, my tenderness, my vulnerability, my pain, my awkwardness, my confusion.
That's freedom, baby.
So don't you dare pity the sweet, succulent ecstasy of my sadness for even a mere moment.
It is a gift to let myself feel it.