I am changing, changing: ripping my body out of the cocoon, shedding everything that made me in an attempt to remake myself anew. She witnesses it all, an apostle to my resurrection, but she has no desire to testify or worship. She has no holy terror. She pulls away from the me who chooses herself, who does not put others above herself at all costs. I pretend I don’t notice, even as I chase after her, grasping at what I don’t think she is capable of giving.
