I sometimes do the same thing as you. Putting significant feelings into words.
I feel that looking at myself carefully can be healing.
When I think back on things that struck my heartstrings, the memories slowly reappear, so I write them down in as much detail as possible.
By doing so, the mind becomes more certain. 
Being able to see or touch something is not the only way to prove its existence.

Maybe, I've never adored anyone, so I envy people like you. Having heart’s home.
Until now, I have equated chains that bind with safety rope. That's so stupid.