I am lucky to have some gorgeous friends… the type of friends that will be there in a second on a good day and never leave your side on a bad one. We can sit in complete silence and be completely comfortable around each other. We have climbed mountains, fought against all odds and are still standing together. My friends are some of the strongest, bravest, kindest and most honourable people I know and always keep fighting. They know what to say and when words don’t need to be spoken at all. If all I had in this life were my friendships, they alone would be worth living and fighting for.
Some days language and words seem so inadequate. How can mere letters cover the giddy brightness that is happiness, the heart-stopping passion that is love, or the cloudy, all-encompassing darkness that is sadness? If words all have set meanings, set connotations, set contexts, how can we fully communicate with one another? Words are shaped by our experience of the world, and will never mean exactly the same thing from one person to the next. Some days it’s hard to find the words to express ourselves, others it’s impossible. And while language ties us together, it can also drive us apart. Some language, however is irrefutable. The warm comfort of a hug, smiling with someone you love, allowing gentle lips to meet your own… If I was to chose one language to communicate with for the rest of my life, this is what I would chose. The language of love, kindness, warmth… The language of home.
This body doesn’t belong to me. I bought it half-price from the reject shop. It was the last one left.
This body doesn’t belong to me. After changing, punishing, starving I lose my body I lose me.
This body doesn’t belong to me. Amongst dreams of perfection and whispers of good enough I dull the pain of breathing.
This body doesn’t belong to me, but this life does and with this life I’ll use this body To help other bodies, other lives to see..
This body doesn’t belong to me, It belongs to us and I hold the key.