embroidery on canvas

9 x 9 inches

"In April, my partner and I moved into a small first-floor apartment in a very old house. At first, I spotted the bugs one at a time, but their presence grew more invasive. When it got dark we would sit together and watch them crawl out from their hiding places. It made my skin itchy. I'd stay up late Googling things like, "Would I know if an earwig was eating my brain?" 

I swore I could hear them screaming "IT'S NOT PERFECT AND IT NEVER WILL BE!" over and over, in the face of my new life- feasting on my joy.  

Then, a thought: Were the earwigs really what was scaring me? Becoming the object of my deepest and most obsessive fears, they forced me to confront my own terrifying nature. What if I'm incapable of feeling at home?

The question has always been, "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" MY question, since the exterminator came and took care of our bug problem, has become:

"Would you still love me if I was an earwig?" which is to say, "Would you still love me if I was revolting and vulnerable. Would you still love me in my most horrific form? Would you let me crawl into bed with you and would you tuck me in? Will you hold me when I am untamable and will I Iet you close enough to try?"  

I am nothing but a blindly yearning animal. Please keep me anyway.