They will say your heart is too messy for them, too loud, too quiet, too big, too small, too much. But you will ignore them because you were raised to exhale and to expand and to know better than to cram your soul back into your mouth for people who do not want your heart the same way they want your skin.

Your heart, a tempest of colors, spills beyond the lines they draw. It dances to its own rhythm, a wild symphony of vulnerability. They may try to tame it, to fit it neatly into their preconceived boxes, but your heart defies containment.

Too messy? It’s the chaos of creation—the birth of galaxies and sunsets. Too loud? It’s the thunder that shakes the earth awake, demanding to be heard. Too quiet? It’s the hush of moonlight on water, secrets whispered between stars.

Too big? It’s the universe expanding, stretching its cosmic limbs. Too small? It’s the delicate flutter of a butterfly’s wings, setting off hurricanes in distant lands. Too much? It’s the overflow of love, the excess of passion, the abundance of empathy.

You were raised differently. Your ancestors taught you to exhale—to release the weight of conformity, to breathe out the expectations that suffocate. And so, you exhale courage, inhale audacity, and wear your heart like a constellation across your chest.

They want your skin—the surface, the veneer. They crave the touch, the taste, the fleeting satisfaction. But your heart? It’s the core, the molten center, the pulsing epicenter of your existence. It doesn’t fit in their palms; it spills over, searing constellations into their fingertips.

So let them say what they will. You’ll keep expanding, keep exhaling, keep knowing better. For your heart is a universe, and those who cannot navigate its galaxies are mere stardust passing through.

May your heart continue to defy gravity and dance among the stars!

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer

Dry Pastel Art