The older I get, the more questions I ask, and the harder those questions are to answer.
Once upon a time, I asked things like, “why is the sky blue?” and “where do babies come from?” Now I ask questions like, “why am I so blue?” and “why do babies die?”
Sometimes, I feel like nothing is certain. I’m not sure that G-d exists, but I pray to the Creator daily. I’m afraid to be alone in the Universe – I don’t even like to sleep alone. I am relatively certain that the ocean tides are pulled by the moon, but I can’t decipher the ebb and flow of my own body. When will my period come? Why does my womb bleed when really it is my heart that hurts?
I recently heard the term “skin hunger” to describe people who have gone too long without human touch. I think I might be starving to death because it has been so long since someone has held me that I can’t remember the last time I tasted the salt of skin other than my own.
All my life, I’ve been told that I am too much, but I’ve always felt that I’m not enough.
I’m longing for someone to reach out to, for someone to share my life with, but I’m afraid that I will crush their spirit like a fragile eggshell in my clumsy desperation not to die alone. I’m scared to say what I really feel because I don’t want to be abandoned. How do I say what is in my heart without scaring others away?
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This work, “Questions” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.