Hugging shorter people and resting your head on theirs
Hugging taller people and having your head against their chest
Hugging people your height and pressing your face against their shoulder
Hugging people and getting picked up by them
Not having people to hug
Giving a hug that comes off as weird
This post describes me in every way
“I don’t want your hypothetical feelings and desires Show me something legitimate and raw No more questions, assumptions or games Retire your moves and trick plays and be frank Get down to it sparing only your sugar coated tongue because I crave the bitter truth Rouse me to reality so I can open my eyes again So I can see this for what it truly is I can only play coy for so long before these sleeves wear heavy from all the counterfeit indifferences thrust upon them amidst their unraveling Soon fabric will be deduced to string and then it’ll just be me. Disrobed and defenseless against the aftertaste of your brush offs and over the shoulder winks I’m not pleading for your all I don’t need to be your everything but courtesy you more willing hand out to strangers and Still you don’t respect me”
We sat on a sandy riverbank, inhaling the sun and exhaling the moon in the form of deadened cigarettes and starless dreams.
Shoot for the moon, they said. They didn’t tell you that if you missed you might land in the sun, burned by the desires that once fueled your heart.
Your strap fell down the side of your moon-white shoulder, threatening indecency. “My god,” you said, coughing secondhand pollution into my lungs, “They’ll do anything to keep us down.”
"Anything?" I muttered back, feigning interest in your sun-scorched anger.
" Look at them over there. The shining in their eyes, the way they throw their heads back and laugh. They swallow moons in their ignorance. I hope one day they catch one in their throats and forget how to breathe."
I put my hand on your shoulder. “I hope that one day you understand, if you do let your skin glow, you know the world won’t end. Baring yourself to the light won’t make you better or brighter. It won’t make a dent in politics, and it won’t change their minds.”
Her eyes glassed over my bare, sun-kissed skin. “Then why do you do it?”
"Not everything has to be political, and some of us are just here to enjoy the light."
I never knew the simple importance of silence, and the enjoyment and peace of mind it brought. I never noticed the subtle ringing of solitude and nirvana that a vacuum of silence could hold. Never could quite hold the grasp of reality, until my knuckles pulsed white, and my veins popped with crippling fear of being alone. Someone might gasp at the fact of me being so reliant on other lost souls, but it’s because of those romanticizing and glorifying ones who are trying to convey the fact that you can’t be happy without another sad person with you; someone to be sad with. I call all of that so fake, so unreal and irresponsible, honestly. How’re you supposed to fly, if you still cling to your nest and question why others are soaring in the blue sky?
Either way, silence is important. Silence is pure, silence is single and beautiful and ringing with pride. Nothing is better than to stare at the thing that tore you down with a glare. To glare at the monster, and have it uncomfortable with the fact you are finally comfortable about your gaze. Bury your stare like fire into them, singe their skin with the ink spewing from your eyes and stain their canvas with soiled saltwater in the open wound. Build them up with their blinding ignorance, and break them down to the bone with berating, blasphemous broken screams. Crying at the selfish minds, indulging themselves in the daily grace of happiness, only to sum it up to normality and shuck it off as something to passerby and not take note. Neither do they take note of the sunshine hitting every petal on every rose, or how it illuminates the pigments gracefully and creates an aura of natural beauty in its most raw state. Nor do they notice how some people skip as they walk down the pavement, or how someone will intentionally skip over the crack just so they don’t break pattern.
People don’t notice things as much. People don’t appreciate simplicity. No one is ever in awe now about how birds wake up at the perfect time, just as the sun is baking the horizon and paints a masterpiece upon the smooth atmosphere.