I don’t really understand what that question means.

All I know is—
I strip myself of everything in front of me.

I become bare in every sense of the word.
Exposed and straight-backed.
I speak to myself with the words I want to say.
I scream endlessly inside the walls of my mind—
without making a single sound outside.

Yes, all of this happens right in front of my eyes.

As for the version of me that’s speaking now—
the one still sitting on the swing, looking faint and drained…
I know how to cry like a child.

My awareness of myself is disappointing.

I think…
maybe that’s why I’m here,
swaying on the swing,
talking endlessly—trying to understand something.

Even here…
I’m afraid of the self that watches me from the shadows.
Afraid she’ll steal what belongs to me.

The things I love to toss away after I’ve used them for a while—
I think she still keeps them somewhere.

Isn’t that right, me?

Can you hear me, self?
I smile from the depths of my aching heart whenever I speak to you.

It feels like I haven’t really lost the smile I’ve been longing for…
But I do feel embarrassed—many times—
because I know.
I know that you know I’m just a child,
angry and confused,
unable to fully understand the world around her.

I understand that the darkness surrounding me…
it’s there to protect me.

But even so,
I still don’t fully understand why I’m afraid to meet you.

Maybe it’s not me…
Maybe it’s the version of me that lives outside this place
who’s afraid of meeting you.

You cause trouble, you know that?

I smile again.
Tears nearly fall from my eyes just from saying that—
because I know…
we’ve wronged you
simply because darkness wraps around you.

We assume the love we have for ourselves
is what caused that darkness to cling to you.

But we don’t know…
Maybe you wanted that darkness.

Ahh… let me get up now.
Let me go back to that worn-out chair.

Oh… I forgot—
things here deteriorate quickly.
They wither fast…
because I feed off their softness.

Am I wicked enough to be surrounded by darkness?
I don’t know.

Let me take a soft step forward.

Let me gently hold the edges of this pink dress of mine.

The air is calm…
and something nostalgic stirs in me.

I want to dance to one of Beethoven’s symphonies.

I think my emotions would tremble if I danced—
because I would look beautiful.

Here I am—
spinning like a delicate swan, graceful in her ballet…
my hair flying gently,
my smile rising with it.

I even laughed for a moment
after spinning too quickly.
I almost fell—
but somehow, I’m oddly balanced.

Now, here I am,
walking barefoot toward the chair I once threw away—
believing I’d never return to it.

Because I wanted a swing tied to a giant tree instead.

But I’ve grown tired of that now.

I don’t want a tree in this space anymore.

Ahh… what’s this feeling called again?
Arrogance?
No, no…

It’s possession.

Or maybe it’s a kind of sovereign pride I feel toward this place of mine.

Let me sit back down in this chair—
leaning on its back,
rocking it gently with my feet.

Can I tell you something?
The truth is…
I might be the one surrounded by darkness.

What about my smile now?