Reading Myself

I am not a neat person by nature. I leave plates, cups, and other dishes in the living room. I throw my dirty clothes on the floor in my room and leave them as they pile into big heaps. I let mail and clutter mount up on the dining room table.

I am not a patient person at times. I wish for things to hurry up. I read books so quickly that when they are over I wonder why I read so fast instead of relishing the moments. But it is in the slowly down that the details can really be seen.

I was starved for affection. I knew I loved human contact, but was too scared for a long time to let anyone that close to me. I used to tell people I didn't like being touched so they could never reject my reach. I used to tell people that I didn't mind being alone all the time, but I would hope that someone would walk by and at least say hello. The Boy fills my needs in that department. There are many I love you's, many hugs, kisses, hand holding, and other verbal and physical sentiments that allow me not to lie anymore.

My mind works in mysterious ways. Today I was thinking about dust mites that live in our mattresses and each our dead skins cells. My thought was, How do they get there in the first place? I read that the eyelash mites are spread by facial contact with those who have the bugs in their eyelashes. Nearly 96% of people do.

I am not trying to pretend to be someone I am not. I am being who I always was, but no one ever knew. Now they know. And now I know, too.