Sheep

by Emily

I feel so exposed, stripped down naked to my core.

This spring so far has shorn me of my protective fleece, left me uncovered for all the prying eyes that surround me.

Never before have I so longed to have my hair grown out quite so much, and I am certain it all stems back to my desire to grow back the wool sheared off by sharp tongues.

But despite all the incessant chill and vulnerability I wouldn’t change any of my decisions save one,but I’m not certain how much that would really change anything.

All my life, I’ve done my best to be original and true to myself, avoiding being one of the herd, and yet, here I am; purposely comparing myself to those (still) hated creatures (though it is more the idea than the creature that I hate).

I guess what I’m trying to say is give back my fuzzies, I seem to need them more than I realized. 

Missing: please return

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