Call Me Crazy

Or don’t.

Instead,

call me emotional. call me volatile.

call me a volcano, hurricane, natural disaster

i am here to destroy everything in my path

by wailing & weeping & striking everything i see with lightning,

i am here to set fires

or freeze you

make your blood run cold, call me ice queen,

I’ll give you goosebumps

Because i am here to scare the living shit of you,

i am the origins of every blair witch,

every woman ever called bitch,

this is an anthem for all those who did not fit

into a cookie-cutter sized version of common everyday sanity.

Don’t call me crazy.

I’m tired of trying to fit my tongue around this.

its constrictive sometimes

language is like a corset on thoughts, they can’t breathe right.

ladies in the 1800’s know of this.

so don’t call me crazy.

when you talk of my wildness,

don’t give me any sacrificial bullshit

don’t be a doctor in the 1800’s

jerking me off with an medical-grade vibrator

& blaming your erection on my alleged hysteria

don’t call me crazy,

call me human

in all the fallibility & fuck ups & frills of that.

just because a girl cries & lets you see it doesn’t mean she’s nuts, it means she’s allowing herself to be there,

& I don’t think she should have to apologize for it.

So I’m not sorry, I’m not crazy,

Leave the diagnoses to Web MD

& just remember this:

I am alive.

(Heather Dora, 2016)