Know Your Skin

It is your prison. It will hold all that is you too the world, and hide you from it. It is your embrace. rejoice in the futility of leaving. The sins of your heart will stain it until the image of it tells the story of your sorrow, loos, love, joy and deep contrition. It will move you to aid, to hurt, to cry out for the pain it has cursed upon you. It will tear, and it will hurt. It will burn, and it will hurt. It will be pleased, and that will hurt most of all. It will long for bodies, and reject affection. It will heal, scar, and refuse to forget, as much as it will be unable to remember.

The most frightening thing is that we chose to remain in it, hoping that the net day will feel better than the next. Remember, we chose. Our skin promises us nothing. We can not know for certain what will pass over it, or go into it. We cannot predict how long we will have it. But having it, in this moment, is a choice. If you forget that then you waist it.