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There are days when I just want to be touched.
Perhaps it is simply that I have been compared to a cat too many times, and I now crave the same attentions that a cat gets, the same petting, stroking, being held tight enough to restrict movement but not hurt. I want to feel your hands running through my hair, over and over again. I want to feel your hands on my back, stroking my skin which I know is warm, even if I’m always feeling cold. And for all my protests about not liking it when people touch my neck, I want your hands there too, massaging, maybe, or simply keeping me warm with the heat of your hands.
And then there are nights when I wish you were here for me to curl up next to, to keep me warm for all that I am ever cold, damn genes, and to hold me tight in the dark. Those nights are the worst. Those nights I lie awake for hours trying to imagine that you are holding me, trying to remember the few precious nights I had with you and you did. Those are the nights that I sleep the worst.
It took me a little over a week to remember the word tactile. Which seems strange, and even a little backwards for someone who will go out of their way to avoid physical contact, but there are days when I want to touch. When I want to run my hands through your hair. When I want to press my face into that warm spot between your shoulder and your neck. When I want to feel your warm body next to mine.
All this without a single sexual thought. I am simply a tactile person. I am simply a cat at heart.
I've downed 4 Coke Blaks since 6:30pm.
Perhaps it is simply that I have been compared to a cat too many times, and I now crave the same attentions that a cat gets, the same petting, stroking, being held tight enough to restrict movement but not hurt. I want to feel your hands running through my hair, over and over again. I want to feel your hands on my back, stroking my skin which I know is warm, even if I’m always feeling cold. And for all my protests about not liking it when people touch my neck, I want your hands there too, massaging, maybe, or simply keeping me warm with the heat of your hands.
And then there are nights when I wish you were here for me to curl up next to, to keep me warm for all that I am ever cold, damn genes, and to hold me tight in the dark. Those nights are the worst. Those nights I lie awake for hours trying to imagine that you are holding me, trying to remember the few precious nights I had with you and you did. Those are the nights that I sleep the worst.
It took me a little over a week to remember the word tactile. Which seems strange, and even a little backwards for someone who will go out of their way to avoid physical contact, but there are days when I want to touch. When I want to run my hands through your hair. When I want to press my face into that warm spot between your shoulder and your neck. When I want to feel your warm body next to mine.
All this without a single sexual thought. I am simply a tactile person. I am simply a cat at heart.
I've downed 4 Coke Blaks since 6:30pm.