So, I’ve tried cutting my right arm off before. In fact, in the past, I’ve very decidedly made a stand- I took the knife, sliced through my skin, cut through the bone, and let my arm fall from my body to the ground. I’ve looked at it sadly as the blood oozed into a puddle around the violated area. I’ve even gotten to the place where I’ve turned by back to the forsaken arm- a symbolic act of a purpose to move away from the arm.

But, I am always scared to actually leave it behind.

So, I turn back to it, pick it up, dust it off, and do my darnedest to reconnect it at all costs. And that’s what I’ve been doing-

But not this time.
I’ve made the cut.
I’ve turned away.

And I am trying to take consistent steps away; trying to forget that my right arm is an invaluable asset-