It was WEIRD and scary and it felt like it was some sort of backwards progress

(what's that word)

I was thinking that I am a selfish, awful daughter.

That this vessel isn't just mine- it's their's too

That it had been given to me by their making, that I had abused it and maimed it irreparably

That it could have been worse, but that doesn't make anything better

That sometimes I'm lost and sometimes I'm found and my state of being could change mid-day.

That I always have to be on guard til the fibers call it quits