I Was Born From Wood and Stone

I was born from wood and stone and told that I should be grateful to have such a solid foundation.

And now that I’m grown, I don’t know if I can say that I’m not grateful, but I don’t know if I can say that I am either. I suppose I see it in neither way – it was not a gift or a curse, it simply was.

Because I may have been born from rock and wood, but don’t mistake me – that isn’t what I am now. Somewhere along the way, I became something else. Something with metal in my veins, and whose eyes shone with neon lights rather than with stars. And with my new eyes, I saw what others could not – I saw the cracks in the stone, and the bugs in the wood. I saw how weak they truly were, how they were ready to fall apart at any moment. And when I saw that, I decided to run. I ran fast and I ran far, and I was told that I was wrong for running. I was told that I was wrong for what I was, and I was wrong to see the cracks in the stone. I wasn’t like them, so I was wrong, and for the longest time, I think I believed them.

So I tried to change. I tried to fashion myself a new body out of creaky, old wood, to pile together stones so they would fit together, but they never would. They were not made for me, and I couldn’t abide them. Rather than liberate me, like everyone said they would, they stifled me, held me in, kept me captive. I hated it. I hated it so much, but I tried not to, because I loved them. Because they were supposed to be important to me, because they promised that they had only my best interests at heart. Because I wanted to believe them, I crushed myself beneath wood and stone.

Is it any wonder that I broke out? That I once again decided to run?

And once again, they told me not to. They told me that the wood and the stone would work, if I just gave it a chance, if I just changed the way I thought, if I just stuck around and forced myself to like it. They told me that that was what I needed to do, but this time, I didn’t believe them.

This time, I ran away and I didn’t look back. Not for them. Not for their love. Not for their supposed best interests. Not for anything at all.

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