Cold weather.

It still amazes me how powerful words can be, even in the simplest of ways. The way the consonants cut like smooth blades slicing your skin, sometimes daggers jabbing tiny holes all over your body and lungs. Writing is a weapon; your voice can shake people's bodies in painful, in thoughtful, and in sexual ways. When was the last time you watched a woman put lotion on? Watched her slowly glide her hands up her legs while grinning, smelling so sweetly you can't help but watch as if she's painting you a picture. Sex is subjective. You take things for granted. The small little things that frustrate you can bring beauty to other people. We are all so fragile, frayed, and yet we're pieced together like paper mache, with our insides hanging out in the open. Our tiny little stories make up so many atmospheres in our lives, giggling to ourselves over something we remember. It's amazing how each individual life is comprised of such vastly different illustrations that no one can see but us. What lines in books most people have never read, lyrics in a song that people haven’t heard, things that people have said to you that you've never forgotten that contributes to your make-up? Strange how we're all made up of words. If we all ate our consciences, we'd have full bellies. We give so much thought and so much meaning to letters that ultimately we've created as a human race. We give things meaning and sentiment. Pretty fucking beautiful. Sometimes I just want someone to come along and slap my face and look into my eyes and tell me that they know who I am and that it’s going to be okay. I know its okay, it will always be okay, but sometimes you just need to hear someone else say it. To connect with another person without having to make an effort, they can just...see you. All of you. Sometimes someone just needs to take your hand and lead you into a new world where you'll gawk in amazement as they sit back and grin, thinking, "Yep. That's right." All of my life leading up until now has been so much to take in. It's sad that we can't remember everything. Every single second is a second of who we are. Sometimes forgetting is necessary. Like those times when getting drunk become more than just for fun. Sometimes you need a reason to get out of bed, to stop your routine, to remember every thing that’s put you right the fuck here; this is where you are supposed to be. Sometimes you want to love so badly it fucking hurts then the next day you want to be left alone because you’re angry and you want to hate but sometimes you just can’t. Every eyelash on your face keeps sweat out of your eyes like its meant to and you don’t even realize it. Wake up, feel the cold air as it punches you in the stomach reminding you that you are still human in there. Remember a kiss of a boy you’ve never kissed before? It just feels so good. A shirt brushing your shoulder, an empty smile with hateful thoughts lurking behind them. You are who you are without anyone’s help and you’re doing just fine. Sometimes you just want to feel pain because that’s all you’ve ever done. It feels welcoming, has a purpose, it reminds you of how strong you really are. The winter. It's right around the corner and I know its coming. The flaky pale skin on my face will show every detail of just how tired I am for no reason at all. Why is it so beautiful to be broken?