(exact date lost)
I\’ve gotten so used to being alone. I\’ve been by myself practically all my life. Growing up I had few friends, and even when I had some there was no one I could truly talk to; no one who would remotely understand or believe me.
The past five years have been particularly bad. The most friends I\’ve had at a time has been three, not counting the ones on the internet. I\’ve spent the majority of the past four years in long distance relationships. Is it any wonder I ache for human accompaniment?
It drives me mad the way my body yearns to be touched sometimes. Kissed, held, caressed. It\’s not even something sexual. Lord and Lady know that if I desired something sexual I could get it, one way or another. That I have never had a problem getting.
But no, what I desire is deeper. The acknowledgment that I – the real me – do not disgust someone. That someone cares, and actually wants me to be there with them. That they care about me, and about what happens to me. That they care about what I think and feel and do. That they\’ll hold me and maybe even protect me, help me, or Goddess praise! – save me.
