Try to forget. Pray for normalcy. Ache from the pain. Ask for an end to the chaos.
An end to the tragedies and agonies.
A longing to belong in the elusive circle of people who didn’t have to deal with the weirdness.
This, my friends, was me.
And then, I said, FUCK IT.
I am scarred. So what?
I think strange thoughts. Oh well.
I’m fat. Eat it.
A past full of pain can create a present filled with beauty. The little things:
A well-loved candle guides me out of the darkness.
Beautiful soaps from Saipua that smell like fresh-cut lavender, vetiver and clay resurrect me.
A handcrafted pair of Osborn Scottish wool booties were made for tap dancing in the streets at night.
A trip to Lush and a hand treatment with Ro’s Argan Oil Body Conditioner literally makes me sing, my parched skin grateful for a little attention. Bath bombs with names like Phoenix Rising are love bombs that perfume my room, my skin.
A pair of ballet slippers, shredded with two years of hard work and bravery, a victory.
The smell of freshly ground coffee beans, a tin of loose leaf tea, the perfect croissant, a bowl of homemade soup, all worth savoring. Inhale. Exhale.
A day with my niece and nephews, a night racing through New York with my best friend seeking ADVENTURE!, a walk with my sisters, un bendicion from my mother, that first hug of the night from the love of my life when I get home from work too exhausted to stand. These are the moments I live for. Whirlingtwirlinggigglymadnesslovelovelove.
The title is an homage to Nine Inch Nails, whose music is the epitome of catharsis and healing.
See, that’s the thing: being angry is okay. Don’t repress it. Channel it. Let it fly and flail through the air, mosh and maul the bad spirits around you, trap their souls in your pages until you find some semblance of peace.
Embrace your past, all the ugly things. Dress the wounds in glitter. Spin the straw to gold.