la tristesse durera


There is no difference in the way skin touches skin and yet there is.

It can be a brush - just like on a painting, one of many thousands, meaningless by itself, but a piece of a greater picture that is our world.

It can bring joy - though I am yet to discover the feeling of happiness, brought by someone else's heat. Perhaps I will never get to know it. Nevertheless, there are talks all around, thus I am obligated to mention it.

It can bring pain too - not only trough strong physical impact such as a hit, a slap, a pinch, but through softness as well - a carress can be as damaging as the cruelest fist, I know it first-hand.

It can bring everything and it can bring nothing. It can mean the whole of creation and it can be as meaningess as you want it to be. It can change lives, it can change your very soul if you let it happen.

A human can go to great lenghts only to be touched and yet it is this touch that gets it destroyed and torn open.

One is rarely bound by chains, we left slavery in the past, but still we tie ourselves through touches, through thin layers of skin, through nerves at the tips of our fingers.

So if there is a bounding, there should be something that sets you free. I wonder if tearing your own skin off would mean getting free of those bounds?

Apparently the answer lies within a razorblade.

And I want to be free.


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