17 years old
Everything happens for a reason.
My blog expresses how I feel. My highs and lows, but I know its gonna be okay in the end...
|Deep Breathing:||Put your hands on your stomach and breathe in for 7 seconds hold for 5 seconds out for 10 seconds as you feel your stomach rise and fall. Keep repeating as often as you need to.|
|The 5-4-3-2-1 game:||Out loud state 5 things you feel; 4 things you see; 3 things you smell; 2 things you hear; and one thing you smell. Repeat until you are calmer.|
|Physical Grounding:||Sit down in a chair, with your back straight and your feet firmly planted on the ground. Feel how the ground feels under your feet, how the chair you are sitting on feels, how your body feels. Focus on the sensations from your body touching the ground and the chair.|
|Meditation:||Lie back. Get comfortable. Close your eyes. Try to clear your mind and let all thoughts go through without paying attention to them. Acknowledge the thoughts, but don't let them gain control. While you meditate it helps to do the deep breathing exercise at the same time.|
My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest
It wasn’t until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.
And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn’t mind burning my skin.
The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my God I was hooked,
I’d drink forever if it meant you’d never stop.
And in public you’d hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn’t mind
When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go
Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered
I don’t care that you got into drugs for three months straight, or how much sleep you lost in that period. I don’t care that you went home and fucked that person and woke up at 6am hating everything about yourself, or that you smoked so much you sounded as though your lungs were giving out.
You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness.
You’re just human, and being human means you need to survive and you do so whichever way you deem fit, fuck everyone else.