Seven Years

You tried to hug me,I gave you a small smile and said I was fine.
You tried a hand shake,I just nodded and said I was fine.
You asked me out, I said I was busy and work was demanding.
You wanted to come to my place and I stopped picking your calls.
You asked if I was seeing someone. I laughed it off. You assumed I was single and available(I didn’t bother to explain, too much effort.)

My dear this has got nothing to do with you. I don’t know when it happened but I kind of hate Human touch. Cuddles, hugs, hand shakes, etc etc. Yesterday I threw up because someone hugged me longer than the acceptable three seconds ( its a rule, right? ). And thereafter, for the rest of the day I was nauseated. Basically, human contact makes me sick! For those close to me, I suffer through them. and good thing they don’t want cuddles and long hugs. Except my lil sis when she can’t sleep, I have no option but to hold her till she fall asleep. That doesn’t count as too much contact, don’t you think?

How did I get here? Maybe I was manhandled or was the touch just too rough that my brain treated it as abuse.
Maybe someone’s touch left me too sore that I can’t stand one more hand on my skin. It hurts so bad.
Maybe someone hands had knives and every touch left wounds. Wounds that need time to close up.

Maybe someone did this to me,maybe. But that’s bullshit,I did this to myself. I am the one that allowed them to touch me how as they saw fit. I can’t blame anyone for what I have become. It was all my fault that I became this pathetic thing they call a person, someone who throws up just because of a simple hug.

They said it takes seven years for your skin to shed all your skin for your renewal.
Seven years and every all my skin cells will be brand new, untouched
Seven years and like an eagle I Will be renewed.
Seven years to shed all their contamination.

I’m wondering, does it go away with the memory of their touch too? I hope so.

So my dear, if you want me so bad, wait for me. I’m not asking you to wait for a thousand years, or forever. Wait for me for seven years and I will be all yours. All my wounds would have closed up(I hope) and this soreness will be just another memory of somebody’s touch. It’s not automatic that your wait will be rewarded, though. Meet me when I’m seven years older and let’s find out. Shall we?

Just another rumble.


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