They think I’m a strange one. Tactile, so co-dependent. Incapable of being alone.
Nervous and jumpy but desperately craving affection.
I need it. I need someone to touch me to know that I’m solid.
Still here.
Real.
But something’s happened.
Something.
You.
Him.
That man.
It wasn’t even that big of a deal.
Not really, not compared to what some people are subjected to.
It was just some messages and unwanted advances.
But to me it was the end of everything I knew.
Inner Monologue 