I am weak, so weak the smell of the roses made me faint, when I went down to the garden, and a simple song carried on the wind, or the afternoon’s last pulsing drop of blood in the sky, disturbs me, flooding me with sadness.

Gabriela Mistral, from Selected Prose & Prose Poems; “Sensitive,

healing-phoenix:

When people give me compliments, I feel as if I hear them while holding my breath, like I’m internally resisting and not taking them in. But if someone gives me criticism, I ruminate and feel it deep in my bones. My mind and body are a messed up system.

But I deserve better than that. I deserve more than a broken system I inherited from my family. I want more for myself, and to breathe in the good too. I am worthy of positive things, and of recovery.