11/4/06 08:51 pm
I guess I really don't know what I want to talk about...
Hash cuts my thoughts into little sharp-edged slippery shapes. My brain slithers in lopsided circles when it tries to get from point A to point B. Somehow I manage to hit the same thoughts after each loop before scattering off again in another direction. The repetition is soothing and I drift off to sleep. When I wake up, I'm shaking and have to stay in bed for a while until I can leave the blankets without freezing, without standing like an unsteady newborn colt.
Because no-one but me reads this yet, I can say this:
I hate the things in my head that have to be dealt with. I used to think I could just stop thinking about them and they'd go away. Cutting? Just wear long sleeves and no-one will notice. Abusive girlfriend? No big deal. Sexual abuse? It wasn't explicit; it doesn't matter. Emotional abuse? Whatever... I had it coming.
But I can't forget about it. All those little splinters have to be dug out one by one before they give me blood poisoning. And as much as I hate it now, I know this is only the beginning. It'll be worse if I have to figure out how to make this work in some kind of relationship. When the people you've dated either haven't cared about what you're comfortable with or thought you made a good punching bag, it's weird to think about being with someone who'd be repectful, who'd actually care. What? You mean not everyone who wants to be with me just wants a piece of meat to use however they like? Why? What's their motive? What are they hiding?
The only way through this is... through it. I can't keep avoiding it like this, no matter how tough it'll be. Somehow I'm going to have to learn how to trust people. Even before all the shit happened, it wasn't easy, and now... well, yeah... But I'm going to have to learn to believe people when they tell me I'm worth something, that I didn't deserve the moments that lurk in my limbic system and make me panic far too often.
So I'll take a deep breath and admit all the things that I have such a hard time saying aloud...
I want someone to cuddle with. I feel like the proverbial (well, not really, but whatever) rat who's been caged alone and never gets touched or played with. I'm starting to wither without that physicality. For now, I just want someone to be with to see where it goes. Saying yes, we'll have sex or no, sex won't come into it doesn't appeal to me. I don't want to have to commit myself to something before I know what the situation will bring. What I do know is that I could spend hours snuggled up with the right person (or people), catching up on all those years I spent sitting in corners and wearing my trench coat like a hug instead of being able to interact with people. I want to touch and be touched as obsessively as new couples do, but I'm scared to initiate it. (I don't want to be anything like the ones who've used me.)
Somehow I have to get past the idea that wanting this makes me a freak, that I have to function according to another set of standards. It's okay for me not to be a monk.
This is a lot harder to write than it looks. I'll be back with more later...
11/4/06 07:59 pm
I'm talkin', yeah, I'm talkin' about the diamonds on the soles of my shoes. Track me with that rubberprint if I walk in the right places, but I'm too careful. Been a cityboy for a few years already and still I travel light. My feet cross dried leaves quietly (no more little-kid scuffing and crackling) and I'm ghosty-silent coming up behind people. Not on purpose, really; it's just how I am. I like coasting, cruising on foot, moving fast along the concrete late at night. Long strides cover territory faster than ever.