self expression

self expression does not have to be art, nor do you have to notice that it reflects who you are

I find myself saying “I can’t express myself” & that is ludicrous to say.

 I express myself in the way that I walk & sigh, the way I stand by the sink. I express myself when I choose to wear the sexy underwear over the ugly ones.

 When I choose what song on what playlist & when I choose not to smoke right when I get home.

 I express myself in the photos I take of people & every time a movie makes me cry; when I pick the bruised orange over the ripe & when I buy myself new sheets.

 I say I can’t express myself & I say it because the form in which I am constantly expressing myself is visible only to me… & what’s expression for if no one’s watching? 

So I guess it’s being, it’s living; the way I am hunched over my laptop writing this is a greater expression of my burnt out body, my lack of maintenance over posture & how badly I want to be seen;

 rather than an expression of being frustrated by the daunting concept of tangibly expressing myself.