Touching you was once an afterthought, it just came as naturally as breathing. If you were within reach, I felt the urge to reach for you. I wanted to stretch out my arm so my finger could have a chance to touch your skin, your sleeve, your back as you walk away. It’s been a slow change, this horizontal move away from me. You’re still here but inching further away. Your hugs don’t last as long, or your cuddles. Your kisses aren’t as long and passionate. You won’t hold me every day like you used to. Where are you going? … Read the rest
Posts tagged writing blogs
the last day of november
Today I messed around with my social media accounts so everything matches with the same profile picture and name – except for this domain, of course, but how could I not and wouldn’t you?
I’m forty-three fucking years old.
I go to therapy every week in part to hear my therapist tell me over and over again:
The only thing you can control is how you react to things.
I can’t control how other people react to things, I can’t control what they think about me, I can only control how I react or respond to things that happen to … Read the rest