She is my appendix. Wanted, to be whole, but not needed. Known, but not felt until it’s bursting with the poison she sets forth. Cut her out and it’ll hurt momentarily, as the scar heals, and then nothing. I shall feel nothing. I feel nothing. The feeling of wholeness will find me again. The appendix will not grow back, but other organs shall, perchance, pick up the slack. In the meantime, I am home. At home and with peace: taken care of in every way I never realized I truly needed. I’ll never let a useless organ lead the way.