I Am a Terrible Friend

I love a lot of people, and I love them a lot. They say things that surprise me. They accomplish things that inspire me. They comfort me, sometimes from eight hundred miles away.

But I love them like the moon loves the Earth. Even when we’re sitting on the same couch. I watch the world through a telescope, through a wall of screens and speakers. It’s not that I want to; it’s that my mind is built like a bunker. It’s the way I was born.

Touch hurts. Physical contact is fine, I mean; I can hug with the best of them. Connections of words are a different issue. Eye contact is a direct threat; it’s like my soul is damaged by exposure to the atmosphere. Someone asks a question, and fear is all that rattles through me.

I don’t intend to be a flake, a hermit, an Eeyore. I would never make a call or send an email at all if I didn’t want to check in, maintain some kind of contact. I’m afraid it looks cold. I’m afraid it looks like apathy. In my own language, it’s “I love you.”

This entry was posted in AvPD, Being Crazy, Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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