You stare at me like I’m some sort of disease.

A mutant that just flew in from Pluto.

I tell you I don’t want to do something, you force me to.

I still refuse and you sulk.

As if that’s going to make me fall to my knees and apologise.

I’m fine how I am.

Though you keep trying to change me.

As if I’m flawed or something.

As if you can’t stand to see the real me.

Repulse you, do I?

To the point that you can’t stand it?

To the extent where it makes you physically sick to see me as I really am?

To see me break away from your hold.

To stop needing you.

To stop relying on you for everything.

To stop copying you just to feel secure as I am.

Does it kill me to see you happy?

Does it slay you to see I’m free?