We live in a highly social world, interconnected by internet and telephone and media, and living nearly on top of one another. But then, humans are highly social creatures. It’s built into our biology to need others—from cradle to grave, we desire and depend on those around us. We crave conversation and company, intimacy and touch and connectedness. It’s part of being human to want those things.
However, the same way that it’s merely human to desire them, it’s also human to go a little . . . odd without them. Not always, you understand, but often.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve wanted to reach out my hand and touch, only to pull back. Every hug, every handshake from friends or acquaintances is a tug-of-war: do I let it happen, or do I recoil?
That’s when I know it’s coming.
Then there are the times when I’m caught unaware; when a guest or a friend or just somebody-who-doesn’t-fucking-know-better comes up to me from behind. I flinch then. Sometimes I snap, too. The common, idle brushes from strangers—in a crowded line, or on the bus—are nearly unbearable. Those touches make my skin crawl.
I don’t know what “normal” is anymore. (But then, I’ve gone a little odd, so perhaps I may be forgiven.) How often am I “supposed” to desire the simple joy of human skin against my own? The clasp of a hand, a hug, human warmth?
The only sound I love more than that of a human heartbeat is that of the rain against my window when I’m alone. I won’t deny that I’m an odd creature, crippled by paradox. But if that’s so, it’s only how they made me. So forgive me.
Sometimes, other people can make you go odd.
I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.