You make me feel as though I’ve missed out on something important, as though I won’t grow up because it’s already too late, because I don’t know how. You, so much more mature than I despite fewer years. What happened to me? What didn’t happen to me? Perhaps I should see somebody, be with somebody. Somebody that can explain why I wont be touched, that can explain why so much shame will be felt if I am. My face red because it feels so wrong in none of the right ways. Remember the way you grabbed my hand and I jerked away? I still would, every time. I wasn’t blushing, I was burning, burning for you to let go of my cheek, an allergic reaction to your palm. I’d sleep alone, but your heart is so close to my own. Can you tell I want you to go? Avoidance is so impolite, so immature, but then again, so am I.
(hollowruins)
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