I used to be your favorite, that was until I grew up. I became self-aware and you lost all interest in me. I began to see the abusive natures at night time, but once morning came there was no trace. I began to stop walking on eggshells but instead purposefully crushed them beneath my feet, I said what was right and that made you angry. Respect was something you always felt like you deserved, but in my eyes, you never had earned it. I became smarter than you, more emotionally intelligent, and that made you burn like fire on dead grass. I never let your flames infiltrate my heart but instead learned how to blow out the fire, something I would make use in the future. I became everything you wanted and more, but the part that was more you didn’t like, because the more was everything in me that made me better than you. The more in me is the part that will never allow my children to walk on eggshells or pick up the glass at night so it showed no trace by morning, it is the part of me that allowed me to stand up to you. The more in me is why I’m not your favorite anymore, the more in me started when I was forced to grow up.