The Physical Act of Loving Yourself
You sit with your thoughts, often. Sifting through the noise and chaos to ask yourself: What is real? What is not? What have you inherited that is no longer yours to keep?
You strip yourself bare, learn yourself anew. Yours is a body that has been needing love when you had more than plenty to spare.
You apologise to and forgive yourself. All the ways you fought against yourself were a form of love, too. The chipping away and contorting. Protecting yourself meant setting yourself on fire for so long and now, finally, you know there are softer ways.
You fight for yourself. Wars that rage internally, on and on. When the question arises of who you are to want / be / do / have all the things you dream passionately about, you ask who are you not to?
You make yourself lemon tea with honey. The lingering taste of it saccharine against your lips. Bask in the sun, feel it warm against your skin. Stretch. Move. Breathe. Here, you have come home to yourself.