A feeling. A gesture. To some, a sweet relief; a comfort. To me, hell. I stray from touch, from intimacy. Negative connotation, I dare not risk it. This bubble is mine, I will not share. Invaded, intrusion. I hate every second of it. I do not speak, I must not, I can't. There is no point. My needs ignored. Violated. Sickly. Is this on purpose? Some sort of torture maybe. I have a confession. My kindness is forced. I grab ahold, hate every second of it. I want to cleanse myself, rid me of the discomforting filth. I'd only draw attention. No, no attention. Please. Judgement for my feelings, for my extreme measures. I'm desperate. Hands reaching, fingers searching. It's a prison. Locked in place. My screams, my pleading; they fall on deaf ears. Cries for help, but no one comes. No one cares. I search for escape, for salvation. No way out, nothing I can do. Grips on my arms, my legs, my chest. No. No, let me go. Shallow breathing, nausea, eyes stinging. Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it! Please... I am stern, I am kind, I'm angry, I'm upset. No luck, they torture me still. Locked embrace, too close. You have no reason to be here, to do this. Stop. Leave me be. No matter my words, no matter my actions, they disobey. Access to places they shouldn't. I won't let them. I have a simple request, one desire, easy to follow;
Don't touch me.
