Some skins are harder to shed than others. I mean that for myself, of course. There are many people in this galaxy who the statement is literal for.
The process must prove difficult, but I’m not here to judge. Anyone except me, that is. Self-criticism is something I’ve battled with my entire life.
Let’s be honest, everyone struggles with it sometimes. Though when you’ve grown up in a dynasty of self-judgment and berating, it’s hard not to also assume the mantle.
Do you ever feel like a physical place makes you suffocate? It’s not the air quality, or the fact your breathing system is unaccustomed to the environment.
In every way, you’re suited to this place. You were born to its soil.
Yet it regrets you with each step you take on its sacred ground, attempting to expunge you from its vicinity like a virus or unwelcome bacteria. That’s how coming home feels.
Maybe it’s my expectations, or the universe out to get me, but it doesn’t matter. It just is, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The moon cycles roll by, and I’m called back again.