I had super glue on the tips of my fingers. Everything stuck to me. Letting go isn’t as hard as I once made it out to be. A little acetone, a little strength. I have washed off whole years — left everything that didn’t matter behind. It took a quarter of a century to learn I didn’t have to carry it all; that when something is poisoning you, it’s best to cut it off at the source. I didn’t need to worry so much. I thought I was just a girl, but I didn’t know then that my heart was a starfish — whatever I lost, I could grow back.