It’s a twisting in my chest, an ache. I feel the absence on my skin, I feel it. I yearn. For something that very may well be nonexistent. And yet I cannot stop hoping. But the hope kills me. The ache is still throbbing. Aching. Aching.

I yearn.

It hurts to yearn.

Physical touch. Skin is so sensitive, so many nerve endings. Humans long for touch - to feel skin, warm, life, stories - to have their own felt. It connects us to others. without it we drift.

I thought I was done experiencing this loneliness

I thought it was over
that I could continue choosing to see and be seen
and I wouldn't feel it anymore

But I can't do anything about this
it's not me
I'm not choosing this
this feeling of intense isolation
it takes months to be built
who knows how long to tear down
again

again

I'm exhausted.

I feel an elastic bubble inches around my entire self
separating me
I push and push and push and nothing breaks it only bends with me and I'm trapped

Sometimes I make poor decisions for myself
knowing they are not good for me, not healthy
and I do them

anyways

and I can't bring myself to care
or judge myself about it
sometimes I make poor choices for myself

one cannot make good healthy decisions all the time

and as long as that keeps me sane, I'll keep telling myself that

I feel an urge for companionship
the desire to sit next to someone
be in the same room
feel another energy
that pull
from my solar plexus
to connect
but I'm alone and scared
so I remain unsatisfied.

I'm hungry
     I want pizza
     and soda
     and ice cream
     and pudding
     and chips
Do you know the best thing,
I have everything but
pizza at home!

I hate this feeling of disappointment

I feel so happy and carefree,
   but the next moment d a r k