Are you there?

Would I even want to talk to you if you were?

You’re so easy to reach, but I’ve never made the effort. I tell myself you wouldn’t respond. You’d think me annoying. It’s premature doubt. Something so simple. And yet, I am an unwilling participant in this active nonparticipation.

Humans were meant to be together. Without one another we wilt like flowers in the shadow of the moon. My mind understands this–it’s the reason I have the feeling of a hole growing day by day in the center of my chest, swallowing me slowly the longer I go without the sustenance of another human presence.

The Greeks had one thing right: incubi and succubi exist. They dwell in the body, waiting to be fed the nourishment of another’s soul. They’re not evil, though. Just misunderstood. They don’t always need physical contact to be fulfilled–sometimes even the lightest of conversation, or the briefest glimpse of a smile, can carry them a long way.

Even knowing this, however, my mind is crowded with the toxicity of some kind of apathy. It’s a kind of apathy that suffocates my life. This cocoon of blackness that wraps itself around my being, constantly telling me I don’t need to be present. I don’t need to be there for you, or anyone else for that matter. I’ve got my own problems to solve, the first being that it’s too hard to get out of bed most mornings.

What a selfish life I live.

My phone screen lights up with your efforts. You’re worried. But I think you have better things to think about. I turn off my phone and roll over in bed. I dream about getting up, walking out, and never coming back. I imagine the day I take what little is left of my bank account and place it all on a one-way plane ticket to someplace foreign. I’d get lost in the culture and the language. I’d sing love songs and hear beautiful poetry and laugh under the smile of a new sky. I would marvel in the life I’d been missing, holed up in my room.

It makes everything so much harder, knowing I’ll never do these things.

My hurt highlights the fact that I can’t sleep without the comfort of a heavy blanket and a pillow to hug to simulate the feel of another human body pressed against mine as I fall into a different world. It emphasizes the indentation my body has left in the center of my bed after so many hours curled up on my side, hopeless in my effort to leave. It streaks my life with black, like claw marks after a vicious attack. My hurt leaves me within inches of my life as I writhe with the ache of it tearing my fragile body apart.

I wish you’d take more effort than the internet would allow you. I wish you’d enter my depraved sanctuary with the physical body which was afforded you. I want more than just your presence in the form of pixels and blue text notes. My soul craves the food yours has to offer. You have a body, which harbors your soul.

Use it and save me.

 

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