slowly, I feel my strength seeping

back into the spaces between my breathes.

how or why or when or what happened

I couldn’t tell you.

but look at me.

I’ve become someone again —

someone whose wrists ache because of writing

someone who smells of ginger-lilies

someone who is excited over evolution and HeLa cells and the Mongols

someone who loves languages, and science, and the way that

color pastels leave dust on your fingertips

and everything you touch.

so vibrant. so rich. so alive.

forget that other person —

she is gone

she won’t be back

I killed her like the mosquito buzzing around my head.