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Disassociated, trying not to think and failing. Soft pawpads brushing through hair and against fur, touching intimately against a face.

Quiet breathing, heavy air. The thought that something should be said but an emotional rejection of recognition and acceptance.

Hands running down a soft figure, trying to feel. The familiarity seeps into numbness.

Throat raw. Eyes weighty. Arms wrapping around ones self.

No substitute for presence can be had alone.

This is what you get for not letting yourself cry when you need to.

Continuing to run paws from chest down to belly desperately.

Drowning in the numbness. But we know what feeling is like. We say we miss it but we get in our own way.

I just want to feel good.

Pretending I know what I should be doing instead.

Lamenting our acts of self kindness instead of experiencing them as they happen.

But we're trying so, fucking hard.

Trying so hard to feel not alone in my own mind, and then feeling afraid when it works.

Feeling so numb you can almost convince yourself those paws aren't your own, appreciating what you've done.

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