You know, all my life, when I paid any attention to the voice in my soul, there was this ever-present question. Why. The only acceptable answer is - because this is my desire.
I am very ashamed of the times I did what was expected of me without answering this question. Because then, what am I? I don't know, but I know I am not this.
I feel like I've spit out a part of me that nobody even wants. I've thrown up all my possible favours. The monsters in my head were there to help me all along.
