I stayed in one place, as if my feet grew roots and bounded themselves
under the soil while my face withered from the drought and my arms left people with bruises because I pricked them with thorns, but I still didn't leave, I still couldn't leave. I wanted to be here when you came back so I was fine there, I did not mind the blaring sun and the pitying eyes--and when you did show your face, you got mad at me for placing myself at risk, you went grave when you realized the agony you think I've been through, and so you asked me repeatedly, again and again and again why I bothered with him when he had told me countless of times I have the liberty to do what I wanted, and so I simply answered three words.