scijessreads

Someone to lean against in silence. To share warmth and steady breathing. To be held without expectations. 

Comfort in the stillness, with no need for small talk and filling the air with the sound of voices because you’re afraid of what happens when left with your own thoughts. 

Perhaps no need for fire and passion, but for understanding and trust. For the deep, soul-tethering bond of knowing with a look, a glance, what is roiling beneath the surface. Of knowing that what is under the surface is darker and quieter and more lonely than the visible façade. 

A kindred that sees the icy walls, years of pushing away and keeping everyone at arm’s length, of not letting anyone truly see everything. Because not one person has ever seen all of the facets and crevices and cracks. They are carefully arranged, only handfuls are given light at a time, and not all to the same people. 

There is a wariness and fear and hardness from never allowing deeper links to form. A feeling that it may be too late to undo the decades of crafted isolation. Of not wanting to pretend to be anything to anyone, and not being willing to step beyond the personal confines to bring in newness. 

No desire to risk when there is not a guarantee of reward, no matter how tenuous or small or fleeting. 

Instead crafting a litany of excuses and proclamations that everything is what it is, and things will happen if they are meant to be.

But sometimes you have to work for what is meant to be and put effort into finding it and holding onto it. And many times the choice is easier to make to not even try. To avoid the entire procedure. 

Because of stubbornness and fear and the faint, trembling question that is always there, in the deepest hollows of the mind… am I even worthy of this dream? Is it even possible to find what I’m looking for? Does anyone care?

Dangerous thoughts, but they remain. Near silent whispers. But always there, tainting, taunting, and murmuring against the daily onslaught of tangled thoughts and exhausting denials. 

What would it take to raze the detractors? To peel back the layers and expose the raw core? To truly feel anything other than an average hum of banality and mere existence? 

Because in the end, the basest desire is that… to simply feel.