Shhh. My brain is busy.

I am currently hiding in my bedroom.

Why you might ask? Because I'm peopled out. It happens.

I may or may not have lied to my friends today, because I couldn't even fathom socializing.

So I lied, took myself to dinner, caught up with one of my favorite bartenders at one of my favorite restaurants, (she always remembers my order, which I know isn't really a thing. But I feel so damn special anyway), then sang off-key to Hoobastank and the Subways whilst driving around town... because I didn't want to be around anyone.

Afterwards I came home, and made a bee-line for my bedroom.

I can't always get away from the cacophony of sound between my ears. Then the thought of being around anyone while I'm...well...overthinking- sounds awful. So I run. Listen to not so great music. Well, I think the music is fantastic, but whatever.

Someone I know recently referred to themselves as high strung, because they said the wheels are always turning in their head. I actually woke up next to said person the other morning, pondering things like... well, so much fucking randomness. Things that were so far from pertinent.

So you know, I'm coping by uh... proper amounts of healthy avoidance.

Anyone else feel like they want, or need to run away? But since joining the circus isn't a thing anymore, you can't really run. You just find ways to avoid your life, within your life.

Like hiding in my bedroom. Blogging to no one in particular. Most likely sounding like a psycho hose beast... BECAUSE I'M CURRENTLY TALKING TO MYSELF WHILE TYPING THIS. OUT LOUD.

I don't have a pretty ending to this, except I'm going to finish this episode of Dollface, Then burrow under my covers, and hope my brain resets tomorrow. All the mers.

a constant craving.

I crave your touch.

A newer sensation, as I would never had said I was one for wanting to be touched. Occasionally, maybe fleetingly before. They say never say never.

Is it because it's your primary language? Your words are rarer morsels, but your touch given more often. I'm not sure. I don't want to chase the thought either. Maybe one day I'll know.

My aversion has always been there. Touch was something taken from me at times when I didn't want to give it. I haven't felt that with you. If anything, I notice it more when you don't touch me. Odd thing, that.

When I submit to you, it's my choice. I'm not callously throwing myself at someone who won't appreciate what they're being given- a part of me. You're not taking more than you ought.

I look into your eyes in the more intimate moments, and get lost. My aversion to eye contact having fallen away, which hasn't been the case before. I've told you a bit about that. I haven't told you I always kept them closed in moments like those. Always.

The boops on the nose, the nuzzling. The kisses that deepen, and the kisses that don't. All of it.

a constant craving.

safety.

You nuzzled into my braids, and I was undone. Its one of my favorite kinds of touch- encircled in your arms, you holding me close. My muscles relaxed, the remaining tension from a long travel day lost, seeping out of my body. My curvature meeting yours. 

I closed my eyes, and let out a long sigh... I knew I was safe there. 

Do you know? Do you know you're safe here- with me?

You say these things. Little things. About your inabilities. To emote, to let someone in. Maybe to feel to a fuller capacity. Alarm bells ring in my ears- listen to what they are telling you. The absence of "feeling" is the presence of pain. 

I still don't want to fix you. Truly. 

I do want to hold space for you. Maybe even give you an inkling of what you've given me- 

hope. 

I'm beginning to dismiss time- its arbitrary to me now. I do feel like I'm getting to know you. Our shared experiences allowing for more insights into you. That being said, a line from Cinderella plays in the back of my head, "Am I making believe I see in you a (man) too perfect to be really true?" Perfect is a false construct, but I know why this phrase plays over and over in my brain. My mistake before has been to fall for potential. It's a reminder to ask myself- is that what's happening here?

I don't believe so. It goes back to the little things. The thoughtful gestures, touch. You're growing vocabulary with me. I feel, as well as see your efforts towards me. They aren't grand, obnoxious or overblown.  but I wouldn't want them to be. Things are being earned here. Trust- in both yourself, and me. 

I'm growing braver in my expression- not to force your hand, or create undue influence. I hope you know that. I trust you. It was there from the beginning. There was something innate here. I don't expect you to be the same. I'm constantly reminded I'm built just off of center. 

Maybe if I'm luckily, you are too.