Sometimes, I think we forget the positive effects of physical contact. We, on our computers, locked behind closed doors, forget what it's like to embrace somebody. It doesn't matter if they're your friend or not. It doesn't even matter if they're alive or not. It's been a long time since I embraced anybody. I think it's because my limbs are so disgustingly long. People have said, "You seem the big spoon type, you know?" and, of course, I don't know. I suppose it would be awkward for me to be the little spoon. "They need to be small, the little spoon. It doesn't make sense to have a big-little spoon." I was inclined to agree.

Well, it's not like I care that much. I just want to hold somebody. I'm scared of being held myself, though. I don't think I could trust anybody with my internal organs like that.


I'd like to, though. I want to feel somebody's hands on my cold body. I want somebody to hold me. I want somebody to hold my heart, raw and flesh, in their hands and look at it, shaking as they do. I imagine it would be quite scary. I want it to pulsate in their hands, to throb unbelievably until they're too scared to keep holding it, and then they throw it to the ground, as though it were trying to attack them. Perhaps it was, I'd never know.

The reason my organs are inside my body is so that I don't have to hear what they say. One time, during surgery (I think it was), my skin was peeled back and my lungs were uncovered. They said such awful things. I hope I never have to hear them again. Afterwards, the doctors didn't really know what to say— "It was unexpected. That's the first time it's happened... The first time in a long while, at least."