Touch.

I don’t fully understand what it is. Or why. But I love the touch of another human being. 

Begining with a brush of the fingertips when handing something over, through the handshakes and the light brushes of shoulders to proper hugs. 

– “Kamila you just admitted to being a creep and a pervert. Stay the F away from us.”

G thanks. No, I am not a pervert. Maybe I am – no – I was a little creepy with my secondary crush … But people change. 

– “😂😂😂 please. Are you listening to yourself?”

Umm yes. Oh for God’s sake. I’m not a creep. 

-“Kamila.” 

Fine I’m a little bit. But that’s a secret. So don’t tell anyone. I know where you live. 😁

Back to the topic. Even though I feel extreamly awkward hugging people. I like to do it. The only thing that’s stops me from doing it is that I feel like it’s too “out there”. But if anyone offers me a hug I’ll take it gladly. Unless your a boy … And I’m afraid of you… 

But all in all, the point is that I need human touch. And what’s scary I’m missing it a lot. It’s not that I never had it. Beacuse I probably had more of it over my life then most people my age. However, as good as my mums or dad’s hugs are, they are simply not enough anymore. 

What I am desiring is the butterflies. The warmth of someone not related to me. The new scent coming off their shoulders. The unease. Tension. The strenght. The safety in an unknowen. 

But how can this happen when your feelings are closed in a box. Deep deep somewhere in the ocean, underneath all the gue and fish poop. And the key is lost. 

– “Kamila, but your forgetting something.”

Yes?

-“Mr gentleman.”

😁

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