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there’s a definite difference between what my bloodstream tells me and what I feel in my bones.

the first is related to movement, action, heat. the quiet notion that, while I may not always realize, everything in me is a flow.

the latter is stagnate, structural, cold. the resistance that may appear when necessary, but is hidden under skin and nerves.

this is exactly how I feel in life.

the bloodstream means my desires and passion. mistakes could mean a cut – and I could bleed out. it’s dangerous, it makes me dizzy – weak even. but there’s also something fascinating about that possibility. the consequence would be a wound, a scar – a proof actually, that I’ve tried. sometimes all you need is to see that there is, indeed, blood. there’s no band-aid, you just need to feel the flow path.

the bone means my necessity of safety. the deep part that I often try to protect, even though it is also the strongest sensation coming from my body. it’s the shield and yet the last layer. the hesitance present here has nothing to do with being sincere or honest, but the fear of offering everything, being drained – only for it not being enough. when the bone is exposed, raw and vulnerable, and not taken care of, there’s nothing left, except the shell of what once was a person.

listening while writing: The Roots mix

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