I’m not the girl I was. I’m not the person I was. I’m liberated by this fact, yet, at times I am strangled by it. I feel like all of the people in my world that counted on the girls I was have been let down by her. She vanished, changed, died, came back. She left them, ran away, walked away, stayed away. Whatever. In their eyes, when they tell their stories, the girl they knew disappeared without rhyme or reason or explanation. They’re right. She’s gone. But you know what? To the person I’ve become, reason and explanation are not necessary. I have given myself permission to loosen the noose because I owe them nothing. I don’t owe anyone anything. Sick or healthy, sane or insane, right or wrong, good or evil, I am who I am today. Take me or leave me. Love my or hate me. When you’re the one settled in my skin you can voice your opinion. When your feet fir the molds of my shoes we can talk as we walk. However, until the day you vacate me from my own head and take over the payments… shut the fuck up.