I imagined it to be like when you were five and scared of the dark
you wanted to be brave, to turn out the light and go to sleep
but you also wanted to run away from the monster in the dark
but this time
the monster was inside you
and not only a monster possessed your being, but chemicals and sadness and fears too
and it's not a case of "curiosity killed the cat" here
because this wasn't your wrongdoing
you were merely diagnosed with that C word that's hard to say
no, not curiosity, with five syllables that proves easier to say than two- which leaves doctors baffled
but you fought on
kind of like the princess-turned-ninja you pretended to be at seven
and eventually that C word ran away, and took its curiosity with it
and it didn't kill the cat at sixteen