Clutching this little bear to my chest, thinking of the person who used to call it her own, at first I feel like a 22 year old baby. But then I get to thinking. Thinking about the last time I hugged someone. Thinking thoughts that were superceded by chemicals that comforted me with the notion that love comes from within me. That there's nothing to worry about, all systems are go.
I frantically run through the days searching for a memory of a touch, with sparse findings. Now I'm seeing that it took a sleepless night to realize what my life is missing. I'm somewhat angry because I know I've struck upon this realization before, more than once. But the pills washed them all away, like excess baggage on a flight to someplace technologically tidy.
Now I know why I always passed off the people I cared most about as some bothersome stranger: I didn't know they were a vital part of my life. Maybe they saw me as a vital part of theirs, I was totally blind to this possibility. I was overcome with negativity after coming out of this months long chemical trance, but now I've finally become aware of what matters the most, and this time I'll try my hardest not to let it go.