Darkness courses through my veins just as light emanates from my body. 

I see, feel, process, internalize, and communicate differently than some others, and sometimes I feel like an island. 

People can see my silhouette from a distance but upon getting closer they just can’t grasp the complexities of what is before them. 

My emotions pour over me like the waves hitting the shore. 

I have sharp edged rocks that surround most boundaries, and soft sandy pits to roll around in too. There is luscious habitat to encourage new growth. And an abundance of unoccupied man-made shelters, forts, and expired fire pits. 

You’ll find characters carved into the trunks of many trees and treasures sprinkled all along the shoreline. 

There is beauty and there is danger. 

There are untold stories and valleys that act as a blank canvas. 

I have heard time and time again that my words are too loud, too much to handle, too deep. That my emotions should be tamed and my experiences should be kept to myself because my ability to be vulnerable makes other people feel uncomfortable. 

But discomfort isn’t an enemy of mine. 

Discomfort is a part of my life, as it is a part of yours. 

And just because my experiences offer you a feeling of discomfort, does that mean that my chronicles should be quieted?

If what I have to share is too much to handle… then so am I.

I am the waves, the sand, the rocks, the shelters, treasures, and the trees. 

I am the words I write and the stories I tell.  

You don’t look at an island (knowing the challenges that will arise if you choose to reside there) and deem that island a bad place. 

Instead, there is an understanding that this alluring landscape offers duality and a vast spectrum of feelings, challengings, and experiences. 

Perhaps it’s inhabitable, but that makes it all the more enticing.  

If I am an island, I have made peace with the knowledge that there is nourishment here. 

There is space to grow, to feel, and to be free. 

And I know that visitors will come to my islet, who would love to stay, but have a life of their own to experience. 

When you sail my way, please approach with respect. 

Come to my island and bask in the surrounding waters.

Build castles in the sand. 

Explore the rough rocks, and listen to the music when the waves crash onto the shore. 

Climb in my trees to forage for fresh fruit.

And dance in my valleys.

But please, leave me better than you found me. 

I am an island, but more importantly, I am a human.

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