I like being quiet, I like listening to the tiny sounds that you can't catch on your ears when they're covered in the noises of everyday. I like being gentle and soft and sweet and caring. I like sitting still for long periods and reading quiet words and basking in the sunshine of a strange, but beautiful world.
But lately, I've been those things and my heart is tugging and pulling and it makes me want to shout instead of whisper. My head says to listen and my heart screams for me to add to the noise and live. And I wonder if living means all of those things. If being so full of joy that it overflows your chest cavity means it touches someones shoes and creeps up into their souls, give me joy that overflows. If you can't stop touching and holding and caring, turn those touches into blessings and hold the cares of another soul. The way I figure, being quiet only lasts as long as your heart isn't shouting for joy, and when that happens all you can do is touch it to another human brow.