A spirit like mine sees and feels many things. I can feel insincerity and I can see a lie coming from a million miles away. It's easy to do when you've seen and felt as many as I have.
Maybe that's why I'm so honest. I say what I'm thinking or feeling as if to ensure somehow that I'm not like the others. The ones who lie and the ones who can hurt others so easily.
But pain isn't all that I can see and feel. I can feel the warmth of a sincere touch. It feels so good and it's so different when someone actually cherishes what they are touching. Those slow, careful strokes and pets of the skin.
I keep my eyes and spirit open for such things. One who could touch me like that could also speak to me of things that matter to the both of us. Someone who cares about what I feel and what I have to say. There is a laughter that comes when someone is genuinely happy and I want to hear it bubbling up from the person beside me and I want to be the cause of it.
There are eyes that can see in me what I cannot and I want to look into those eyes and smile.
There is a warmth that soothes me into the deepest sleep. A rest so peaceful that it may as well be death. Rest like that only comes when the burden of trying to be someone you're not, trying to live up to the standards or the expectations of others, when fear of rejection, of not being good enough are finally lifted.
There are arms that create that kind of safe, sound slumber and I want to find them.