Neglected

You can’t tell me how to cut my hair anymore. I can have it long or short, or have it hacked off altogether. And I can sleep with the tv on — I can let the lights dance from the screen, across my room, and over my eyelids. I’ll feel a sense of comfort from the brightness and the quiet voices speaking distant words. After all, it’s more than I’ll ever hear from you. I’ll eat all my favorite foods again, all the things you hated. Mushrooms and onions and olives, things that are pungent and strong, just like me; things that rid the body of impurities and infections, and protect your heart — something you knew nothing about. But I guess that’s why you didn’t want me to eat them around you; because then you’d be nothing.  My body would have purged itself of you and your vile intentions. I’m reminding myself that it’s okay to enjoy all the things I loved, that you told me I could do without. One day, I might even love myself again.