Things to know about me…

I ache.

(A lot.)

I am made up of yearning. My want has spent years, decades, centuries burrowing under my skin and now I’m hypersensitive to it all. I don’t know how to live in my own body. I am pins and needles. Tenterhooks. Live wires and electric sparks. Horror movie music on repeat.

I cry when people are nice to me. I cry when people are horrible to me. I cry when people are just people. I am a never-ending cascade of fucking water from the tear ducts. A deluge. A tsunami.

I say hello to animals I meet in the street. I sometimes make up complex back stories for the animals I encounter but not the people (never the people). Their lives are full of enough struggle as is, I assume, without me getting involved.

I do what I want. I have issues with authority. If you tell me not to, I’ll do it even if I don’t want to (youngest child complex).

I have only known true peace twice in my entire life: When everything came crashing down around my ears and that night in the Porterhouse when you pulled me into a kiss so unexpected, I let my wine glass drop onto the floor and everyone applauded the combustion of glass against wood.


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