Skin Hunger and the Taboo of Wanting to be Touched
How can I say that I fear I’ll never date again without feeding the monster? No one owes me their touch; I am starving for it just the same.
ThisisAn Unquiet Mind, a monthly column by s.e. smith that explores disability identity and its interaction with the world at large.
But when did I last see the babyshift not
No one owes me their touch; I am starving for it just the same.
Failure, failure, failure.
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We will adapt. We will find new nesting places. But there will be no return to “before.” Not for the flock.
In our constrained culture where public, raw grief is not socially acceptable, I fear that grief stories are being asked to do too much.
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Those who spend their lives in bodies others deem unworthy grow accustomed to building our own self-worth.