Some days, like today, my anxiety hits me like I am being pressed against a wall and the earth is spinning in the opposite direction. I find solace in physical comfort (a hug or hand-hold). Those are the times I feel like I need someone the most, like if I had one person who I could call and ask, "am I going to be okay?" They would always answer. They would want to do "nothing" with me. Just to be near me and do their thing. Those days, I feel truly dependent and I hate it.
But the fact that nothing is truly shared and that I will never really belong to anyone scares me more than anything.
How elusive is this thing called life? We borrow a womb. We borrow our childhood home. We borrow beds and car rides and exchanges in dim-lit sticky party bars. But we can't ever really keep any of it, even before we are truly gone. Doesn't it scare you to know that no one anywhere will ever be able to live in the EXACT moment as the one you are living at any moment? There is no way to truly recreate or relive or share any experience. exactly as it was.
The closest things we have are art and sex. Art is skewed and never really mimetic. Sex is so marred with emotions and hormones, there is no room to realize that you are IN it.
Nothing is completely shared and nothing is completely ours.
Most of the time, I am alone and I feel fine. Sometimes, I want someone to share living with.
Does that make me less of a woman?
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