The Fear of Being “Too Loud”

I’m a little loud.

That might be an understatement.

I’m very loud.

I get it.

I have struggled with who I am as a person. I’ve been self-conscious and extremely critical of myself. But aren’t we all though?

Any way, one thing about me that bothers me is that I’m loud. I’m a very loud person. I can go on and on about how it’s a result of me never getting enough attention or my own sad past, or how I grew up being ignored all the way throughout my childhood, but I won’t. It’s a dark journey and we aren’t that close yet. Maybe after a few coffee dates or late night “why are we still up, let’s reveal our darkest secret” talks.

The bottom line is that I’m just a loud person. I talk loud, my laugh is thunderously loud and people have even called out that I clap really loudly.

I have become very self-conscious about how loud I am. Yeah, I even got self-conscious about my clapping. Like what kind of nonsense is that?

People have made fun of my laugh, my voice, my clapping to the point where I don’t want to laugh, speak or even clap anymore.

They shut me down and made fun of me about things that is out of my control like my race, sexuality, gender and that’s all dandy and fine (it’s not, stop it, I’m being sarcastic) but my voice, really? Is that really one more thing I need to add to my list of insecurities?

There’s a part of me that dies when people tell me that I’m being too loud. I pretend to own it and love it, but I don’t. I hate my laugh, I hate my voice, I even hate my clapping.

Isn’t that insane?

People have tried to silence me for so long. People told me to not laugh, not speak, not clap.

“Why are you being so loud?”
“Omg, your laugh is soooooo loud.”
“Why do you clap so loud? So obnoxious.”

Bitch, maybe I’m having a good time and I want to show it. What’s it to you? I’m sorry that your laugh doesn’t reverberate through the atmosphere and can be used as a beacon for aliens to hear because that joke Sharon told at the Christmas party was hilarious and you wanted to show it to her properly. I’m sorry that your clapping doesn’t crack the sound barrier because you aren’t happy enough to express your joy through smashing your hands together for maybe a show or an award your friend won or just pure unadulterated joy.

Society has morphed me into hating every part of myself, even my laugh. Maybe it is my fault for letting people get to me, but how can you not? It’s not easy to just brush off criticism from people that are supposedly important to you. It hurts, and you start to hate yourself.

You start to laugh less, speak less and just stop being yourself as a whole.

You stop yourself when you’re laughing or talking. You start to think that your words are worthless and not worth hearing. You start to think that maybe you shouldn’t express joy or happiness. You start to not get too excited about things that have always excited you in the fear of being “too loud.” You start to shut down. You slowly rebuild the wall that you let down because you thought you could trust these people. You start to realize how crazy you that you need to let down your guard to be happy. You can’t laugh normally. You can’t speak properly. You shut down the windows, close the blinds, and turn off all the lights. Your eyes go dull and your voice breaks. You shove it so deep within yourself, you start to become deaf to it until you’ve completely forgotten your voice again. It’s dark and scary but you tough it out because you don’t want to be a nuisance.

But that’s total shit.

So yeah, I’ve been told my entire life to shut up.

Well, fuck you.

Because I’m not shutting up.

Because my words are all I have.

And I can be louder.

So don’t test me.


Passage of Emotions

My attempt at poetic prose writing.


Without sound, she beckoned for tomorrow to arrive in a timely and swift manner. She would not tolerate tardiness and incompetence.

It was as if she commanded the sun to rise in the east with a gentle movement of her hand. It was as if she hung the moon in the sky after the sun set so the world would not be shrouded in darkness. It was as if she led an army of soldiers into battle for a war that she waged on herself.

Her eyes glazed as she slowly breathed the world in. She felt every particle in the atmosphere collide onto her skin and lay gently on the surface, patiently waiting their turn to dwell within her bones. Like the slow ripples of disturbed water, she reacted to the sound of her own loneliness. The initial drop of her heart and the rapid turns within her mind, she felt everything all at once. The impact of the emotions running into the walls of her skin left her uneasy and shaken. She trembled into a sudden motion of fear and anxiety. A quick reminder of her failures and a note of her insecurities flashed within the illuminated corners of her mind. Projected onto the walls inside her skull, she watched the movies of her past and her imagined future. Shocks of intense wonder and terror reached the tips of her fingers as she drew them into a fist that she placed on her lap. All this within the milliseconds of time as the thin, plastic hand of the clock swung.

Jaws tightened and her limbs stiffened, she stared out the window of her dimly lit room and breathed out the words that reminded her of the tomorrow that would soon arrive within a few hours:

It’ll pass.”