My Home Is Your Body
Well, that’s not entirely true. I know that part of me is still in Barcelona, where I touched another body and my parents couldn’t say anything about it. It was the first time I felt like I was a real person who had a future that she could decide for herself, and it was too important not to take a little something with it when I left. I made a lot of mistakes that summer, but they were all my own. And that is the only other time I really remember feeling the same way I do when I am around you.
It’s that feeling of weightlessness, that feeling that anything is possible. I know that you are bad for me in the way bad food or excessive alcohol is, and yet, every time you call me, there is something about you which draws me to lie down next to…
View original post 556 more words