For Me, The First Sign Of Oncoming

And Yet You Are All That You Have, So You Must Be Enough. There Is No Other Way.

I Do Not Remember Very Many Things From The Inside Out. I Do Not Remember What It Felt Like To Touch Things, Or How Bathwater Traveled Over My Skin. I Did Not Like To Be Touched, But It Was A Strange Dislike. I Did Not Like To Be Touched Because I Craved It Too Much. I Wanted To Be Held Very Tight So I Would Not Break. Even Now, When People Lean Down To Touch Me, Or Hug Me, Or Put A Hand On My Shoulder, I Hold My Breath. I Turn My Face. I Want To Cry.

I Wish I Could Find Words To Explain What This Kind Of Cold Is Like- The Cold That Has Somehow Gotten In Underneath Your Skin And Is Getting Colder And Colder Inside You.

There Is, In Fact, An Incredible Freedom In Having Nothing Left To Lose.

That’s The Nice Thing About Dreams, The Way You Wake Up Before You Fall.