Why Aren’t I Unfiltered

If I were unfiltered I would scream at the top of my lungs when I felt this restriction in my chest, a roaring storm beneath the edges of where my ribs meet, being constricted by a steel corset.

If I were unfiltered I would ask for you to come to me now, to hold me in your arms as tightly as you could, while I tuck my face into your neck and we share the truths of ourselves over one too many glasses of wine.

If I were unfiltered I would buy a plane ticket to a house on a cliff, overlooking the sea, where I could hear the waves crash at all hours of the night, taking months to focus on the well being of my mind, feeding my soul with meditation and my body with strength.

If I were unfiltered I would tell you I am unsure of your purpose, your importance, your place in my life, but that in this very moment you are the one I wish to be by my side as I sort through the confusions of my universe.

If I were unfiltered I would not allow the fears of my family’s worry, my pride being diminished, my work’s expectations, nor my vulnerability being exposed to prevent me from taking such measures.

But I am filtered, so these daydreams are not my reality.

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