I would hate being small.

I would hate having a shrill voice. I would hate the oppression of attention. I would hate desperately craving the oppression of attention. I would hate working so hard to be pretty. I would hate feeling like a victim, and how familiar and calming that feeling can become. I would hate being drawn into the special gravity of wasteful, hurtful men, knowing that they only want to see me break apart and burn up on my way down. I would hate knowing that everything I will ever love will want to feed off me or destroy me.

But I love watching you give it a try.