O’Keeffe channeling, Marfa vibes, and suburbia madness

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Here, hold my tongue

“Just a piece of feedback.” He said. “Maybe, don’t talk so much.”

He then went on to explain that this isn’t academia, that maybe you shouldn’t give so much verbal feedback.

That when people hear,

“Okay, got it.”

What they really hear is,

“Shut the Fuck Up.”

Which is strange and pretty much the opposite of all you had been taught. All you were good at.

So you start to hold your tongue, but holding your tongue is heavy.

You keep your mouth shut. You literally press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep yourself from talking. Sometimes you employ the aid of gum, or a mint, or anything to push up – towards the roof of your mouth. Anything to stop the words from coming. The tongue from moving.

You had never done this. Kept yourself from talking. Kept things to yourself.

Speaking your mind. Giving your opinion. Talking through things. These were all things that you were told to do, praised for, encouraged. Things you were good at.

But this is a different world.

Holding ones tongue is heavy.

It wears on a person. It is exhausting. A level of exhaustion that you have not yet dealt with. It requires a different level of mental energy that you are not used to expending. Because despite that fact that you are a minority female, you have never felt as such. Never felt the feeling that your voice wasn’t valuable.

That your tongue wasn’t work moving.

Holding a tongue is heavy.

So you start moving your tongue in inappropriate venues – grocery stores, restaurants, movie theaters, with loved ones. You become the type of person you hate. The kind that are mean to clerks, service industry employees, loved ones. You become the type of person you hate.

You become the worst version of yourself.

All because you were told,

Hold your tongue and you never realized how heavy a tongue was.