Shedding

For the past 22 months, I have put on a cloak every single day, on weekdays. Each day, the cloak got thicker, tougher and more fitting, so tight it almost seemed to melt into my own skin. Each Friday, it got harder to remove the cloak. With each passing week, when removed, the cloak seemed to leave stains on my skin, until I realised that my entire body was covered in a layer of the cloak. I was covered in anger, fear and resentment. This was the fabric that was the cloak.

Yesterday, I removed this cloak and forcibly scrubbed off any remnants that had crept into my skin. I no longer have to ask why incompetence is rewarded and guarded in certain people and not in others. I no longer have to be the obedient sheep, who while is resentful of the fact that she has to pick up on stuff carelessly (or perhaps intentionally) left undone, still does it and ensures it is done well and efficiently. I no longer have to sit in silence and resist the urge to hurl my chair across the room. I can finally enjoy peace within and without.