Sometimes the subway, at night, when you’re a little buzzed, is the best therapy you need. To be able to parse the relationships in your life, and wonder how you let something slide. How you let yourself be quiet. How you let yourself be silenced. When you’re not a silent person. When you’re as bright as the sun, as loud and alluring as a siren, and you don’t care who does and does not listen, because by god almighty herself you will be heard. And in these moments of silence and contemplation in a sort of stupor that I remember who I am and want to cry for having lost myself for even a minute. Because this is the person I was born to be, and she has never and will never bow down to the silence that oppresses and weighs on her and her sisters in moments of sheer weakness, because she was taught by her mother to be loud and proud, and who gives a damn because the rest doesn’t matter. So thank you, to the subway for giving me the time and space I needed to garner the energy for reflection, and to my mother for never letting me silence myself, even for a moment.