Make no apology for your strength, for your kindness, for your intelligence, for you.
Let others hide their light under a bushel. You have no time for bushels and you were never like the others anyway.
It might be lonely sometimes but it’s better than being in the bin with all the samesies. There you would be bored and suffocating. At least here the air is clear and fresh. You could cut your tongue on the bold lines of your existence.
Don’t worry if they say you’re too loud, too outspoken, too “much.” What is “too much” anyhow, except a phrase uttered by those afraid to open the doors of their very being and let the world rush in, swirl about, and change them forever?
Before it’s too late.
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