I want you to heal, body.  I know I haven't always wanted it that way, haven't always helped you the way I should in making that possible, but now is the time and I want you to heal.  I know that you are not always beautiful. I know that you'll never be widely admired.  And I've decided, today, that that is okay. I still want you to heal and be exactly the body you were meant to be.  Whatever that means. Just that I want you to run - like a well cared for engine - turn energy into production the way you ought to.  Not because you're beloved for your form, but because you make something and that's your purpose, ineffable as it may be to me. We'll live together for as long as we have in this inbetween space - you conducting all our business here on Earth and me as an interpreter. Something else will conduct. We'll be weird forever; we always have been. Riches and glory are unlikely. Pain and rejection is assured. let's enjoy what we can anyway.