Tuesday Afternoon

I want to hang on to this feeling. I let it linger. There's lots of things to process. I want to feel them all. I force the unpleasant ones to the back, as per usual. I should learn to take them slowly, in and out, let the good outweigh the bad rather than vice versa. I'll unlock that later. For now, I want to feel you again. I don't even need you to touch me, I just need to remember the feeling. I stare blankly as the light changes from red to green. I need to feel what I felt. Three times. I let it wash over me. The smell of you is no longer detected, I cannot distinguish it from my own. I can't help but remember what I sounded like, what you felt like. It was like you had a key that you had been saving for quite sometime. I wasn't ready before; I was ready last night. You test me often. Calm and gentle, like a warm bath, adding more hot until I boil like a frog, without notice. Instead, I'm aware. I was privy the whole time, just wrapped up in not being ready yet to enjoy it or pursue it. I was ready last night. You tested, I didn't hesitate. You backed off. I put your hand back. I let the feeling of your skin, soft and smooth, be an image in my mind. I pause the book I'm reading. Taking me back to that feeling once again. Only, you aren't with me even though I still say your name aloud. I laugh because I smell like a fresh baby, feeling perverse with a strange innocence. A man follows me around the grocery store and smiles at me hungrily. I avert my eyes but allow my shoulders to stand tall. I turn my music from indie to rap and blast my eardrums.

Within a few hours, I'm back to that feeling again. It comes back to me. I have to pause the tv to allow my mind to stop overwhelming my body. The feeling keeps circling back to me. I let it. People keep looking at me and I wonder why. I have no make-up on. My curly hair is without spray gel. I had it with me but chose not to use it. I didn't try today. I just was myself. I didn't care about my extra mom belly pressed into my tight daisy dukes, tank top tucked in. I had a confidence without realizing because my mind was elsewhere. I smile back at a teenage boy, who stops at a cross walk to stare at me. He smiles back and looks down, shyly. I turn away, almost robotic, and see my reflection in the glass door of my home. My eyebrow raised, I forgot how red my lips were. I look down automatically and pull the door to erase it.

I am researching. I am always trying to understand. How do I work? Why do my feelings feel the way they do? Can I do something to feel differently? Can I change this feeling? I want to make this work. I quickly rephrase; I have hope. I read article after article, opinion after opinion. Can this work for me? Can this work for him? I get a gut feeling that I must press on, have the desire and willpower to understand, I can do this. I have come this far. I'm not turning back now. Now that you unlocked something deep inside of me. Or maybe I had the key? And I let you turn it? Either way, it's been let out. Back to the way I felt before I started healing. Before I was triggered last winter. Back to when I remembered what I like and how I like it. I find 15 tips to make the impending LDR work. I realize as I'm down the list, mentally checking which of us does what and how it feels to me, that we already are practicing this list. I wonder how long you have been trying to see if it could work. I wonder if you had any thought to it at all. I wonder if you read this list, seeing how we both have done all 15 together. I wonder when I'll get a handwritten letter. I close all my apps. I open another. I read enough words to get me to click into the bad feelings. I hope I don't linger as I dive into it. I stop myself. I have hope, though. I have hope! I laugh and then let three tears pop out. There's nothing left to do but "Do and Hope."

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