Honestly, I am in desperate need of attention. Not the type of attention that could easily be solved with social media. But real one-on-one attention. This is exactly what I imagine…or long for rather.
Me laying in someone’s lap. My hair between his fingers. Twirling, twirling, twirling. He asks me what is on my mind. I tell him as in trance, because the twirling, twirling, twirling is making me sleepy. I sing the words of my deep woes effortlessly and without thought. It bubbles out of me like a cool, blue stream. He sees that I am always swimming in it and that I wrap myself in it, though it is beautiful it is cold. It sometimes produces a sharp current and attempts to drown me. But he lights a fire and warms the cold waters so that I may float on all of my woes. I let it carry me to my next destination. He whispers “it’s okay. You’re doing fine. You’re almost done.” I slightly smile at the taste of satisfaction he can offer by reassuring my progress. I roll myself into his body and breathe in the scent of a man and I drift away for the night and I wake up, new.
But really. I do this for myself. In a different form. I validate myself. Cause there is only myself. You cannot depend on the warm touch of a man to push you along when the going gets tough. The water was too cold for Jack. Rose continued on. Alone.
This was a hard lesson of life that at times, I still refuse to accept. There are days I feel overwhelmed by the ticking clock that hangs over me. I hide under my covers. My warm covers. But do not mistake this for retreat. I’ll start to sweat and become suffocated under there. I will come out, craving the air of the unknown and I will breathe it in letting it become part of me…and once again like a tiny soldier, I will continue my tiny march, in this tiny arena where life continues to happen.