It’s just a little rearranging. Your vanilla views of life have been switched out for his technicolor lens. My own need to volunteer has been moved from the guest room closet to the shelf above the mantel. My constant stress to impress has been tucked away neatly in the utility closet for another day. Your fake inspirational quotes that hung in teal on our walls have been taken down to reveal the original hot pink wallpaper from the 60s. My favorite indie films and published books have replaced your own collection of work next to the TV. Lyft rides spent fighting about whether or not someone cried in a movie have been replaced by my hand over his as we passionately discuss how much we hated(loved) the movie on the drive back home. Strict diet foods and protein shakes have been moved to the pantry, replaced by homemade meals and my grandma’s recipes. My endless drawers full of apologies for my quirks have been restocked with his clothes, no apologies left. Our welcome mat proudly states ‘Weird Lives Here’ in every pop color you could imagine.
And with just a simple rearranging I am me, as I am meant to be. No longer living in a porcelain house locked in by your opinions. And soon all of your belongings shift from the guest room closet, to the utility closet, to the brown bin outside of the garage.
And I am myself, again.