I just want a kiss
I just want to know what it feels like to touch..."
Kelly Clarkson, Can I Have a Kiss
Tuesday was my birthday and I've been trying to write this entry ever since then. I've just been so tired from the long hours at work and general exhaustion and sadness. I also believe I have a touch of ADD because I seriously cannot concentrate anymore. I used to be able to sit down and pound out entry after entry with no problem but now it takes me hours, sometimes days, to write. For once, I don't blame it on nature or nurture. I think I did this to myself. I've conditioned myself over the years to become an inefficient multi-tasker. I'm usually writing while watching television and listening to music, eating, clipping my toe nails, doing my taxes and tempering eggs all at the same time. I need to focusss.
My birthday was pretty blah. It wasn't bad. It wasn't the worst day ever but it wasn't good, either. I had to work, first of all. When I looked at my schedule and saw I'd be spending my birthday in that crap factory, I didn't even put up a fight about it. I just shrugged my shoulders and put on my big boy briefs (and a bow tie) and walked in like I owned the place. When you get older, you have to do stuff like that. You grow up and your special day isn't that special to anyone else outside you and your immediate family. Sometimes it isn't even that special to them. But it's no big deal. Just another day.
But it kind of sucks that the magic is gone.
After work, I drove home. That night drive was the best part of the day. Swooping through the orange and white lights. The darkness pulling at my eyelids. I just thought it would be nice to have someone I could share my special not-so-special day with so I could feel a little less alone, at least for the night. And if lips wouldn't help me forget my crumbling world, maybe liquor would. We could go out and get drunk and make out. A swirl of inebriation and untangled inhibitions, taking a break from my brain for a while. Release and regretful decisions.
It's something that comes so easily, something is taken for granted. What might seem trivial to so many seems tremendous to me. The intimacy. The charged current. The confidence to caress. But it's all lost on me. It shouldn't be so scary or foreign or vital yet I need to feel the closeness of body, the intensity of mind, the comfort of desire. Yes, I'm wanted. Yes, I'm needed. Yes, I can be touched and be made to feel worthy of someone else. Yes, I can give and receive pleasure. I know it. I don't feel it.
I don't think I ask for much. Just to be happy and lie on the cold ground and have someone hold my hand a while.
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