Monday, August 24, 2015 Comments Off

It is 1:21 AM and I am having skincrave.

I have always felt that way, I suppose. There is this intimacy that I hunger for that can only be satisfied by being physically intertwined with someone else. Some people often mistake this need of mine for sexual relations. Though I cannot deny that having sexual interaction with someone would mean that it would be easier to get that skin to skin contact, satisfying my skincrave requires something more than just interacting sexually with someone without any shared intimacy that has been established before. Romance does not always have to come into the equation, but there should always something intimate shared between the person and I, something sacred that was borne out of mutual respect and understanding.

Perhaps the reason behind this is simply to remind me that I am not alone, even though it has been visibly proven, but oftentimes I need a gentler, more active reminder that this quiet solitude is shared by the society as a whole; sharing your atoms to be comfortably nested in their being as a way to lessen the feeling of incomprehensible loneliness and possibly the feeling of being unimportant.

This torturous endeavour of mine might never be met for it is getting more impossible to find another human being to share my relentless need in sharing the experience of having another's presence right beside yours. But let's just pretend. It is almost two in the morning and I have nothing more important to do.

Let's just pretend that I have one person in my life that I can satisfy my skincrave. Let's just pretend the person is male, relatively older than me, taller than me, larger than me, with thick lashes that framed smouldering eyes and luscious lips. Let's just pretend that we have known each other for awhile, that we have collected enough stories of each other to consider that the intimacy of satisfying skincrave is somehow an act usually shared by people with romantic inclination towards each other, but we currently do not have it. Or maybe we do. Let's just pretend that we have managed the technicality of our relationship, whether it is strictly platonic or the opposite, and we also have decided that sharing skincrave would not affect, or the opposite, our relationship. Let's just pretend that we have resolved that this act is nothing sexual, that this act only involves hours of snuggling under his woollen black afghan, on his couch while watching something––and eventually sleeping. Let's just pretend that he enjoys the feeling of my hands running on his thick dark hair and on his neck. Let's just pretend that I enjoy having him rub my back and tangle his fingers on my mane. Let's just pretend that we acknowledge each other pain and suffering by temporarily unburdening the feeling of total and complete loss, due to the fact that our heart and head are isolated from the world, through physical touch.

Let's just pretend.

[Natasha Vavere]

What's this?

You are currently reading Skincrave at Thunderloved.


Comments are closed.

Powered by Blogger.