there is something in you that want out. It’s like a ball of yarn unravelling and tangling up again, tying knots around you and slowly closing in.
“what should you do with this ball,” you wonder. you think of untangling all there is and finally letting it all go. you’d be free. but untangling takes work. there’s knots to pick at and crosses to undo. even worse is just admitting said yarn exists. that it wraps you, so you aren’t normal. you hide yarn from friends in fear of shame. you distance from family knowing the disproval yarn brings with you. from this far away, you hope no one will be able to make out the yarn.
looking at the path inward, the choice seems obvious. keeping yarn inside you means nothing needs to be untangled. no problems to admit. no fighting to be done. inside these walls of recluse away from discernment, it’s just you and the yarn that wraps around, around, and around.
yarn wraps so tight that it becomes you. When you admit that you’ve become yarn is up to your own discretion.