hungry

I think it feels different this time because it’s not verboten to love him – he accepts it, even, maybe? welcomes it? he doesn’t run away. He lets it wash over him.

It feels really good. When I think of him, I feel my whole body sort of humming, like somebody switched on a dynamo. Even my feet tingle and get hot! Yow. :-) Beer float.

I wonder where this idea of 'forbidden to love' someone comes from? The first thought is that it was my fa who resisted. Don’t know why. I remember somebody telling me (mom?) that when dad was in the hospital the last time, and my aunt (his sister) was there, he called her by my name, asking for me. I felt really sad, because I didn’t get to see it. He never asked for me when I was actually there. I felt always that he was angry with me for something I didn’t understand – he resented something I’d said, and never forgave me, and never told me what he was upset about. And carried it to his grave.

I was just a kid. He would never let me just be a kid – I had to always be more grown up, less annoying, more together. But I never was. I was just an annoying, perfectly normal kid (at least, at first) until I got so bottled up from his uptightness that I could never, ever relax, anywhere. I became like one of my violin strings – strung tight. Twangy.