As I sit here with the windows open it occurs to me that something's burning somewhere... Hard to tell really, when you live in the country, whether it's someone burning a pile of scrap wood or if someone's house is on fire. The scent of wood in flames takes a free ride on every little breeze.
Then I start to think about a comment someone made on my facecrack page today in response to my status regarding not really caring for the single life any longer. She said that sometimes you have to tear off the burnt skin in order to start healing with better skin. Funny how a simple statement like that can carry such meaning.
For the longest time I've felt like something just isn't right in my world, blaming it on everything I could think of from too many hours at a shit job that I hate to not having a consistent person in my life to come home to and share with... But really, now that I think about it, I've been living in "burnt skin" all this time, never tearing it away to allow new skin, healthier and prettier skin, to take it's place. I've been holding my breath, looking away from my reflection in the mirror, retreating into a shell of myself more and more every day.
Time to breath and surface and look into my own eyes again. time to finally let the skin heal...