Two women, hair tied up, dressed in black tights and turtle necks, pit themselves against each other. Both are wrestling to throw the other down.

One is afraid of the other and the second hates the first.

This, I believe, is me.

Told in a thousand ways throughout life that to be me is wrong, I have embraced the belief that doing so will bring reprisal. With this belief comes great fear of that true one within.

Hush. Be silent. You shouldn't have said that. You will be hated. Shhhhhh. Draw no attention to yourself. Quiet....quiet....quiet!

The silenced one seethes with anger at fear's imprisonment, fighting to get past the halting of her words.

You will see, yells the first. I am protecting you.

You liar yells the second. You hateful bitch. I will scream the truth past you, until I am heard.

On they fight the never ending match.

Tossed between the need to speak truth and the fear of reprisal, I tense and wait. It is not the world that silences me, but myself.

Fear, be calm, for the worst reprisal, the only reprisal that can destroy you, is that you shove upon yourself.

Silenced one, speak, for I will hold fear and comfort her.