Please Please Me

What if all I wanted to do is to touch you the way I wish you would touch me?

Touch deprivation is a goddamn curse.

Shitfaced

I've had maybe dozens, if not hundreds, of people who can't get their heads around the fact that I don't drink.

Why would I? It's not like I have any need of a coping mechanism for anything in my life ...

People become who they are, when they're drunk. Or at least that's what my research/observation tends to show.
I don't know who or what I am, and I don't know if I'm ready to find out, nor do I have anyone else I can honestly trust to find out for me.

Also: never had a hangover. That's pretty neat, although it's hard to say how much of a benefit that is when I anyway feel like so much shit in the morning.

It's all about trust, isn't it? Can't escape it.

They Say

They say you should never go to bed angry at a person close to you.

They don't tell you how to do that if said person is you.

I Needed That

Finally something positive.

Movie night was amazing. Thank you.

Shoot For The Stars ...

... because it doesn't matter if you don't have eyes to see where you're going, or a mode of transport to get up there, let alone the fuel to propel you.

So many people see their idols and, in awe, vow to be like them.
Isn't it even the slightest bit telling that I saw my idols and immediately hated myself, vowing that I could never do what they do?

Does it help that my reasoning is, in fact, legitimate? How far does optimism take you when the real physical world has effectively unsurpassable limitations? And what do you say to those fucking happy faces that are content enough in their ignorance to live by their shitty aphorisms - and worse, share them with you, thinking they will be the ones to show you happiness?

Time heals all wounds.
Yeah, even though time itself is the entity wounding me.

The grass is always greener on the other side.
No fucking shit, those people have actual soil, and the resources to pay for a water supply and people to take care of it.

You don't need others in order to be happy.
No, you ass-clown, YOU don't need others to be happy. Twenty-seven goddamn years in my own head and body gives me far more clarity on what I need than you could ever hope.

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Fuck pets.

Everything I see is just a painful reminder of what I need, what I'm missing, what I'll never get. Who's going to scratch me behind the ears and tell me what a good girl I am? Is that really so much to ask?

Ignorance is bliss.

Please

Please?

Who cares for courtesy in these parts ... ?

Take These Broken Wings

Can something be considered broken that was never actually completed?
I mean, I know you can break incomplete things, but can you call something incomplete 'broken'?

Am I a broken person, or just incomplete? What pieces complete me; who, what, where is the one that made me (or rather, failed to do so)?

Meaningful dreams elude me in the void.
Alone I drift under the stars
Pondering the fate of children
Dying from afar, so far ...

Where do we go, we who laugh in the face of chaos?
Crowded places full of loneliness, loud as the clapping of one hand
Squaring our shoulders, circling the drain of consciousness
Triangulating the point of no return

A line of fools crosses the threshold.
Holding our tears in our veins
In vain do we hold our souls
Wandering aimlessly across this plane of existence.

Don't You Dare Fucking Tell Me It's Sexist To Be Straight.

If I start with the words "skin hunger", I feel the need to clarify that no, I am not a cannibal.

Touch deprivation is very much a real thing, and (evidently) not talked about nearly enough.

I'm not qualified to talk about it, except to say that it's highly probable that I suffer from it.
But if I'm not qualified, who is? And why aren't more people, more qualified people, talking about it more openly?
(I mean, I know the answer to that question, but jeez it's depressing.)

It's more a psychological problem than anything else, but we all know what the state of psychological help is for me. (Hint: it's not in good shape where I am.)

Have I peaked? How do others see me? Do I exude the hunger through my pores? Can women smell it off of me?
Who's going to help? I mean, I'm all for those 'talk-to-another-person-about-your problems' apps and initiatives, but why can't people accept that the effect of those is marginal at best when the root of the problem remains unaddressed? This problem is never going to be solved by words that do not lead to a touch.

Platonic, friendly, affectionate, anything ... and while we're on the subject, fuck you for just dismissing it with "get yourself a pet".
Yes, you. Fuck you. Fuck you very much.
I mean you in particular.
Do you not think I would have tried that, if I felt even the slightest chance it might be good for me?
You think I want to live with this pain, this fear, this utter existential dread and loneliness forever? Do you think, do you honestly think, some dumb animal is going to help with that when I can barely even connect with humans whose communication I can mostly understand?

Jesus. Talking about this isn't helping. You could always tell me to 'touch myself' but hey, are you naive enough to believe that hasn't already happened? If it helped I wouldn't be here talking about it. Some days I hug myself and fall asleep wishing I knew how to cry.

Come cry with me. Please.

And don't you dare fucking tell me it's sexist to be straight. I didn't ask for this. You didn't ask for this. Fuck you even more than the rest of those proselytizing pet-promoting fuckers.

What Are You Worth, Really?

The few times people observed me talking about myself to interested parties, the prevailing commentary tended to be "You're not doing a great job of selling yourself".

Fuck you.

Where were you when I was young and impressionable? At a time when I could have actually learned how to be the best self that I could be?
Skills are learned.
Talent is less than worthless without motivation and reward.

I'm not here to sell myself. I'm here to get help. I need help. I need a hug.

Stop

I can't even read the word 'trust' right now without feeling pangs of regret for things I wasn't even responsible for.

I've never fully trusted myself, although I was always hopelessly naïve and trusting. Weird, isn't it? It's a shame. A damn shame.

A person who is good at what they do trusts themselves to do it. There is a prerequisite of experience and self-esteem that is undeniable and compelling. I've never had that. There's so many music pieces that I love and yet, even with years of practice, when I get up on stage I have yet to perform them without a single mistake.

Perhaps this is why I can never feel complete without a group. But what does it bode for me when I can't feel trust in my group?

Trust at the root of everything... a feeling I can't properly grasp.

Someone help me to learn to trust again.