“You never touched me with your hands. Our shoulders never brushed together accidentally - not even for a moment. And oh God, my lips never had the pleasure of feeling yours against them.
I’ve read that skin cells replace themselves ever three days, two weeks, seven years; I don’t know which is correct.
But I know that if my heart were to replace itself every three days, maybe I wouldn’t still crave you; and if my brain were to replace itself every two weeks, maybe I wouldn’t still remember you; if my lungs were to replace themselves every seven years, maybe one day I’d learn to stop breathing for you.
I long to crave new things, forget the old, and maybe even learn to breathe for myself again.
I can’t remember when the last time was that I breathed in fresh air.”
Expert From A Letter To You // (r.e.s)