Absolutely Feral 🦁

There’s a part of me that doesn’t wear a leash. No collar, no cage. No polite little “Excuse me” before I tear through a situation with claws out and fire in my lungs. That part? It’s absolutely feral. 🦁

We all have it—hidden beneath our office voices and carefully curated Instagram feeds. Some people keep theirs quiet, like a house cat in a sunbeam, dozing. But not me. Mine howls. It prowls. It scratches at the inside of my ribs every time I bite my tongue or shrink myself to make someone else comfortable. And sometimes—on the best days—I let it out.

Being feral doesn’t mean being reckless. It means remembering who you were before the world told you to tone it down. It means reclaiming the sharp edges they told you to soften. It’s unapologetically choosing yourself in a world that profits off your hesitation.

I remember the first time I went full feral in public. It wasn’t planned. I didn’t wake up that day thinking, “Today I will become a lion.” But life has a way of testing you. I was in a meeting where my ideas were being steamrolled by someone who clearly thought volume equaled value. I sat there, nodding politely, heart racing, chewing on the inside of my cheek—and then something in me snapped. I spoke up. Loudly. Clearly. Directly. I didn’t ask for space; I took it. The room froze, and for a second I wondered if I’d gone too far. But you know what? They listened. I had finally roared.

Since then, I’ve made peace with the wild in me. I’ve stopped apologizing for having big feelings, big dreams, or big reactions. I cry when I want to. I laugh too loud. I say “no” when I mean it, and “hell yes” when I feel it. I wear what I want. I dance like I mean it. I chase what sets my soul on fire, teeth bared and eyes locked.

Of course, being feral isn’t always glamorous. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s screaming into a pillow because you won’t let the world break you. Sometimes it’s walking away from people you love because they don’t love the real you. It’s choosing discomfort over betrayal of self. It’s a primal, guttural thing that doesn’t always make sense to others—but always makes sense to you.

We’re taught to be tame. To fit into cubicles, dresses, labels, and lives that weren’t made for us. We’re told to settle, to be “realistic,” to color inside the lines. But the truth is, you weren’t born to be beige. You weren’t made to be quiet. You were born roaring, fists clenched, lungs screaming, demanding to be seen and heard. That wildness is your birthright. Don’t let them take it from you.

So this is your sign. Unleash the lion. Say the thing. Take the leap. Burn the rulebook and build your own jungle. Let them call you too much. Let them call you intense. Let them whisper behind your back that you’re “a lot.” Because you are. And you should be. You’re absolutely feral—and it’s time the world knew it.

🦁