Touch Starved

I am touch starved

Whether by choice or by fate

Doesn’t matter because the end result is the same

Was I made this way or

Did I make myself this way

Uncomfortable in almost all social interactions

Socially awkward

Like a social sphinx cat

An oddity some people take interest in

To others an object of disgust

An object of mystery

Something to be curious about

But never to touch

Truth be told I don’t like most people

If it wasn’t for the way I feel about hate

And that hate is something I refuse to do

I would say I hate most people

I don’t like being that way but I am

An introvert at heart and on the skin

Only an extrovert at work

And even then limited

I always sit in the back

The front draws too much attention

I don’t want it

But I do

And I need it

Always watching

Always vigilant

Situational awareness it’s a bitch and a half

And I’ve got it in spades

A whole deck full

I always watched

I always listened

I always paid attention

Even more so now

With my years on the job

My 8+ years

Of walking halls

Filled with concrete and steel

The job can eat you up

It will tear you up

It changes you

Forever and always

Armed wherever I go

Afraid and unknowing

How to ask for more interaction

Afraid of rejection

Afraid of acceptance

A struggle of 15 years at least

With depression

And suicidal ideation

I love my job I love what I do

I don’t like how it’s changed me

I don’t like how I am

But I don’t know how to change

The first step is admitting

But where do you go from there

A question I have asked without end

How do you begin to change

Such a fundamental aspect

Of who you are

Of what you are

I walk the thin line

My purpose to serve and protect

But how do I protect myself from

The demons that hound me

I don’t like to be touched without knowing about it before hand

I don’t like to be touched most of the time

By which I mean I don’t like it to be a surprise

I don’t like it without permission

But when its not bad

I always enjoy it

A touch on the shoulder

A handshake

A fist bump

A hug

I crave that human interaction

I am touch starved

So hard to write

I tear up as I type I don’t wipe them away

For fear the flow will stop

This whole thing so far without stop

It need to be said

I need to speak it forth

I need to place it out in the world

To ask for what I need and want

When I can’t say the words aloud

Not just for me

But for all the others

I must say what need to be declared

I’ve known what to call it for a long time

The human touch is so important to us

But it’s only been compounded

By my own normal isolation

And self-isolation

By our new normal

By this damn Covid-19

If you see me

Put out a hand or an arm

Ask before you touch

I may tear up

I’ll definitely appreciate it

Definitely love you for it

Definitely say thank you

Until the words lose meaning

In that context

For that act

Philia, or deep friendship

Another kind of philia, sometimes called Ttorge,

Embodied the love between parents and their children

Agape, or love for everyone

Philautia, or love of the self

The Greek’s sixth variety of love was Philautia or self-love. And clever Greeks such as Aristotle realized there were two types. One was an unhealthy variety associated with narcissism, where you became self-obsessed and focused on personal fame and fortune. A healthier version enhanced your wider capacity to love.

The 5 type of love we all need and want the most

The ones that are the hardest

And sometimes the easiest

The ones whose presence was felt the most

All reinforced with touch

With presence

Don’t get me wrong

I know I’m loved

I know it deep down inside

More than most

But the physical evidence is lacking

I’m touch starved and I’ll be the first to say it

To admit it

Are you

Will you

Do you











Photo by fotografierende on

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