You said that I can stay, but what if I tell you that’s too far from what I want now? You can stay, but I feel there is no longer a warm chair for me, and no fresh air in the room either. You can stay, but don’t you know I don’t fit there? I know you tried hard to make me belong where you wanted me to, but you can’t make a fly act like a butterfly. I’m sorry, but I am not you or them, and I’m not a butterfly either. You can stay, but can’t you see how miserable it makes me feel? How lost I am, unable to separate my true self from the fake one you created? How my words get stuck in my throat, how my heart beats fast? You can stay, but could you stop for a while and look at me, how I got my wings wet because I was trying to impress the fish? You can stay, but you have to act like a stranger, even to yourself. You can stay, but you have to lose yourself and become someone else, even when becoming means killing, killing your true self.