i almost didn't say yes, because who am i to be happy like this, so loud in my skin, when everyone else is still… waiting. it feels like i should dim myself, somehow, but the island just keeps reflecting, back. The urge to shrink is a well-worn groove in the brain. Like a phantom limb, that reflex to make myself smaller still twitches sometimes, even when I know I don't have to anymore. It's a relief to recognize it for what it is: a survival mechanism that's past its expiration date.