Untouched

There’s this thing that I scroll past on tumblr.com at least once a month –

“A human’s cells replace themselves every 7 years. And this is such a nice thought because it means in 7 years I will be untouched by you.”

Okay I’m paraphrasing. Horribly. But you get the picture. It’s melancholy and maybe a little depressing.

But today, I was driving home from a run and I felt different. I’ve been pushing my body hard this week with barre, spin, trampolining, running. On top of that, I’ve been pushing my soul with church and pushing my mind with work and Illustrator. And it’s been about 3 months of celibacy.  I know if I went through my texts I could figure out exactly how long it was – but I don’t care enough to. The only thing that matters is that I feel different : 3 months of being untouched, unkissed.

The last time this happened, it was melancholy. This time, it feels wonderful. It feels like my body is mine. There aren’t any pieces of it that belong to any one else anymore.

Being in love is a funny part of life. Finding your first love, the toxic love, the love of your life – they’re all stages you go through.  The same way you find your first job, you move out, you pay your own bills. Each stage is different, unpredictable, personal, and each one builds upon the other.

But it’s different, too, because society revolves around love. It’s anticipated.

Sometimes it feels like life doesn’t start until you find the love of your life, but at the same time, as soon as you do, your life is over.

So here I am, in the love purgatory. Not in love, not crushing on anyone, but not angry with anyone either. Just happy, content. My body is mine, my thoughts are mine, my world is mine.

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My girls and I xo

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