I Don't Know What To Say, But I Know What I Need

And I don’t know how to handle that.

Denial is a fun little part of being human that I don’t know exists for any other species out there in the animal kingdom. It’s a handy little tool where you can just take something shocking, something that changes you in the very core of yourself and makes you second guess everything, and then just pretend that it doesn’t exist.

As a note, denial becomes a whole lot easier at the end of a stressful day when it’s so late into the evening that it practically feels like morning again. At that point it becomes almost simple to forget about everything and just collapse into sleep.

As I curled up beneath the sheets wearing the baggy shirt and boy shorts it was simple for me to curl into a ball and pretend that everything was fine and normal. Only the slight odd shifting of weight on this new body of mine and the softness, the presence of everything on my skin, was what made things stand out.

But sleep was coming quick and rapid and it was swallowing me whole. Fingers creeping up from deep within me, dragging me down and making me feel heavy.

So heavy. So present. So her.

In the moment before sleep took me I felt her body and I mean I felt her properly. I felt it in a way that I never had before, in the sort of way that you feel your body all day and every day without realizing it.

Life is a torrent of passions and pleasures. Sensations playing out on the skin that are too loud and too present to ignore. Sirens blaring in the darkness, with every sensation a lightning shock playing on one of your senses and we condition and develop barriers to keep it from overwhelming us.

Because no matter whether it is touch or taste or sound or sight or smell, to experience it without any impairment, to experience it in full, is to become lost in it. It is a riot of exposure and it would destroy you, so we lock it off and compartmentalize it and ignore it ninety-nine percent of the time.

We focus when we think we need it. All other times we ignore it.

But in the moment before sleep my guard is down and I feel her. I feel every unadulterated inch of her.

I taste through her mouth, the taste of her lips and her saliva and his too. Lucas mingling somewhere in the back of me and a contrast to her almost sweet sensation. Eddie as well, a bitter acrid taste that mingles in me and threatens to stay with me. Rachel, so sweet she’s almost saccharine. Blake, the musky taste of him lingering long after he’s left me.

I hear. I hear the world around me rustle into life and I hear my heart pounding in my chest and I can’t ignore it. My raspy breaths coming slower as sleep takes me but pounding louder than I can ignore.

I see lights popping off, even through my closed eyelids. I see the memories of the day and the vividness of the color and the sharpness of the image and the depth of the dark. I see more than I’ve ever seen before, then I ever thought I could.

I smell the scent of shampoo and can pluck out the individual notes of it. I remember the smells of the day, of the men and the people around me. I remember what it was like to be truly surrounded by it.

And I feel through her and it is a sensation like a thousand fireworks popping on each inch of my skin. It is heat and fire and prickling pleasure and it is itching with need under my skin, crawling out and making me remember and realize in the same way that the sight of her in the mirror had before.

Because truths cannot be ignored and denial can only work for so long and in the dark where sleep takes me I let my guard slip just once and realize something more.

I feel more as her.

In every possible way. In every possible way I feel more as her. In the sensations playing out through my senses and in the feelings stirring in my heart I feel. In the frustrations and the needs and the cravings and the desires there is only one word that can properly encapsulate it all.

More.

I need more.

I need her.

I need to be her.

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