Landscapes.
You clinged my body like you wanted it forever. What a lie.
-26/01/19
We break. We heal. And somewhere between those cracks, we cry a lot, we may feel like dying, we may scream, drive too fast, cuss too much, buy too much coffee and books, some of us may drink or experiment with that stuff we promised our parents we’d never touch. Some of us will throw away our belongings, move away, hide, come out again, kiss someone we didn’t mean to, have too much sex or none at all. Some of us might convert to a religion or out of one, some of us might sleep too much or develop insomnia. We might make new friends or lose some. But somehow through the breaking, the burning, the aching, the tears, we plant soil that’s dirty and muddy and soggy, and buried with our sins and our blood and our mistakes, and turn it into flowers; flowers of all arrangements. And that’s when we tell ourselves, we healed, and we become someone new. We are never the same person; before the breaking, after the breaking, and after the healing. We change.
Volume One: Seventeen, Ellen H. Moon.
