shaking, i contemplate what might happen if maybejustmaybe he pushed me away. i contemplate the drenching self-hatred i would feel and how maybejustmaybe i would forever loathe the touch of anyone else, remembering how it felt when his fingers trickled down my spine like slowrunning water, the way his lips felt shaped against mine, the expressions he threw. his smooth voweled voice. his palms... i have been shaking for a bit, now, staring at my ceiling, staring at my white, blank, empty ceiling, and i think maybe if i could blow my brains out sometimes i would do it. i would get rid of them and me and maybejustmaybe someone else could define for me the things in my heart and head that are making everything always wrong, all the time. i am a stupid fool.