Pain that doesn't get transformed gets transmitted. It spreads. Passes on. Echoes. Until it is transformed.

My mind pushes against it. It's too awful. It was so long ago. And I didn't do it. It wasn't me. Except it is. And we did. It's all of us.

This is me. For at least 20 mins a day, you'll find me wearing this ice mask around the house. Pretty sexy, huh?