was depression the dirt flowing all over me? and can’t healing manifest itself in a scattered way? my greasy hair nourished me, grew very quickly to make me forget that i cut them to see me ugly. my flesh produced…devamıwas depression the dirt flowing all over me?
and
can’t healing manifest itself in a scattered way?
my greasy hair nourished me, grew very quickly to make me forget that i cut them to see me ugly.
my flesh produced a scent that was uniquely mine.
my fingers with their spilled nail polish pointed to where the healing was.
the frown mark between my eyebrows that I inherited from my mother immortalized my mother in my own body.
pieces of my story were embroidered on my distorted skin without any symmetry.
i was not clean, harmonious and orderly.
if i was, i would never have healed.
i am still messy, flawed but also healing for the sake of my father who occasionally wets my lips in my bed of depression.
and i do wish everyone a messy but real recovery.
eylül
