All I can think about is bodywork, a healing practice for recovery, for undigested trauma. There’s a connection between the mind and the body: our brain remembers moments we want to forget and forgets details we need to remember in order to heal.
There are great loves that come into our lives when we least expect them. When they get close, we devour them. Like wild animals, we eat them up just because they fill us.
What happens when a group of teenage girls survive a plane crash and become stranded on a deserted island?
Even though I actively tell myself, “Relax. You’re safe,” there is a part of my brain that says “Tense up. You’re in danger.”
Every person who you believed was the one for you will bury themselves into a distilled memory the way they’re supposed to like the way dust settles into the nooks and crannies of our pockets.
The fact of the matter is that healing is supposed to hurt. It’s your heart’s way of telling you “I’m getting better. We’ll be alright.”
If they make you believe in something beautiful and that all the heartache and longing was worth it–tell them.
You know that feeling when you take a cold shower after being out in the sun all day? That’s what this hydrating gel feels like.
He becomes shapeless in my mind
the way all past lovers do after they’ve had enough of me.
As badly as you believe in what could be, it’s the longing that keeps you apart.