There’s this noise in my head. “You’re not welcome here.”... Belonging is an active verb. It doesn’t come to you. You don’t receive it. You take it.

Naked Under My Skin

At first, I can barely gasp for air. I die. The 'old' life is squeezed out of me. The humble, vulnerable, naked human surrenders. I go from solitude to intimacy. Inside the hug- My heart beats with their heart. And then I have to let go. Present tense pushes out past tense. The smush of body weight against the floor feels like a full body hug.

Shedding Skin. Dear Intimacy…

...I'm not sure I've actually felt you. My imagination is probably sparked by movies and novels. I'm not sure I'm capable of being intimate. Have I made you something that I can't have? Have I put you so high up on a pedestal, that you're unreachable?  I want to crawl up on your lap. I want to feel you squeeze me so tight I squeal.

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