The skin knows first

“The skin is not just a protective layer,” I say
when someone asks why I care so much about skincare.
And I see them looking, puzzled
But listen...

She’s warm. She’s alive.
She doesn’t just glisten with sweat,
but with who you once were
and all the things you couldn’t say.

Your skin was already sliding along your spine
long before you stood upright.
She caught your mother’s silence,
your lover’s sigh,
the yes you swallowed,
the no that stuck in your throat like a pit.

And this miracle:
she’s made of the same stuff as your nerves.
Same origin. Same pulse.
Same embryonic dance floor
where skin and spine
first found rhythm, before you even had a name.

You didn’t learn this from textbooks.
You felt it when a gust of wind cracked you open on a Sunday,
or when someone looked too long
and you smiled, even though something inside shrank
like paper catching fire.

Skin is no boundary.
She’s a receiver.
A mirrorball.
A fine antenna picking up fragments:
voices, memories, songs
long forgotten
that still send goosebumps
with no clear reason.

This isn’t about being sensitive.
It’s about truth.
About circuitry.
About what hums
beneath your collarbone,
behind your knees,
in your fingertips
when you touch something real.

You knew it.
Before you had words.
Before language got in the way.
Before logic fenced in your garden.

There was sensation.
There was skin.
There was you.
Already knowing.

** Did you know that your skin and nervous system come from the same embryonic layer?
The ectoderm, the source of both touch and impression.
That’s why your body often feels what your mind only understands later.
That’s why caring for your skin is also a way of listening to what’s alive within you.