For who?

Actually, I lied.

I do not want this reborn, softer version of myself.

I have done so much to make myself more digestible, acceptable, palatable, normal ?

I have become so tiny.

So scared. So subdued.

Drained of all vitality.

So broken.

I am an empty body.

I want to be loud and obnoxious, peculiar and off-putting.

I will never be as happy as I was just a few days ago ever again,

But my mourning has awakened something dormant and evil inside of me.

I want to express myself and take up so much space and be far, far too much.

I have twisted and contorted and molded and malleabilized myself.

I have bent myself into tight origami folds. For what ? For who ?

I was never meant to be this small.

Nobody deserves me.

But I do.