Laying next to my guy friend with my hand on his shoulder, his face is turned away and I can see his collarbone and thick neck, very hot view for me. I look down a little lower and see his smooth chest rising and falling from his soft sleepy breathing. I am in some sort of weird mood where I feel half asleep and half uncomfortable. I start to appreciate the human form, especially a male's body and how different it is from my own. How much I'd like to feel and see every part of this kind of body, for hours everyday if I could and not feel unconfident if he was watching me. Then I start to appreciate how he is alive right then and so am I. I feel special that this person wanted to share this with me, this being alive right next to each other with just our skin between us. I am still in my weird mood and I feel half happy half strange again, and I try to search my feelings for why I didn't feel as passionate as he did, nothing still comes to mind as to whats wrong with me. I don't feel much of anything when someone kisses me anymore. Are they just the wrong person, is it just so surprising that I don't know what to make of it right then, are they always just to new of a person?
My eyes start to unfocus and focus with a weird haze over them, I'm tired, but am to confused and uncomfortable to go to sleep. I start to think of someone else, that bad someone else and the dirty memories of us. How I didn't feel much either when he kissed me the first time and the last time. I start to see how memories were made in time, how where I was right then will just be a memory to me right now. How ten years ago feels like it just happened a moment ago sometimes, how sad and scary time really is. I remember what it was like to lay on him and I'm mad I don't remember what his hand felt like in mine. I barely tried to touch him and I am so mad I don't know what more of his skin feels like against mine, it's his fault though. What is wrong with me? Why am I longing instead to appreciate him and not this person? I start to miss him again, but I try to stop, because this person I'm laying next to doesn't deserve that, he's a good guy. I try to go back to being alive again, the warmth of it and the softness of skin on skin and his soft breathing and how I am lucky to experience this right then. The human form with it's simple shapes and interesting lines, yet complicated mechanisms that continously work to keep us alive for some reason, the beauty of it all, for lack of a better word. Then I start to feel afraid of when this will go away, of when I will go away. It feels, close even, that death will take me before I've seen anything in this world. I'm not so afraid of it, I try to tell myself that at least, more angry that I'm stuck doing such boring things everyday and that if I do go soon, I will have seen and have done not much of anything. The feeling starts to overwhelm me, that I have come to appreciate such nice and small simple experiences like this, and this is when it will all come crashing down, that I have served my small purpose already. Those times when I feel, I want to say one with the world, but not sure if thats really it. Those times when I feel the good and the bad, the yin and the yang of experiences, of simple ones like warmth and cold, over eager happiness and deep down depression all at the same time. My stupid arrogant self, are you telling me that in 22 years you've gotten as far as you can go with this world? Please I should be more humble than that. Perhaps there is my fault, there is my reason to be alive. I long to hug this guy while I'm in my insecure, strange, death haze, but I tell myself I don't want to explain my silly thoughts and feelings. It's times like those I long so badly to tell someone who will understand this, who could offer some comfort as to what is going on, who has felt anything simliar. I long for my bad bad friend who may know something about this. There I go again, with my useless petty human drama.
