A Sense called Touch

hug

The sense of touch is a powerful and elemental medium of expression! Look at the array of emotions – a soothing hand, a supporting shoulder, a passionate embrace, a motivating clap. More effective than the spoken word.

My parents always made it a point to communicate with me and my sister through both words and touch… However tired he may be, Dad would always stroke our heads while we slept; Mom would always hug us goodbye, her familiar scent as comforting as her patting hands.

But I never really became touchy-feely. I was comfortable hugging only my immediate family and best friend. At college, everyone hugged and snuggled while I just hovered exchanging wary glances with anyone who came too close for comfort. I gave in at times, allowing myself to be hugged and be used as an arm rest. Even in my so-called relationships, physical intimacy was never something I actively craved. Two years in a dorm and it never crossed my mind that I can use this freedom to experiment. I was fine lounging in my room with my big fluffy pillow. And no, I wasn’t a tease maintaining a ‘you can look but not touch’ image.

Ironically, “huggable” and “cuddly” are adjectives commonly used to describe me. I often receive texts or calls from friends saying “I feel like a hug and you are the first person I thought of” (They were not hitting on me!) … I am at a loss! Why don’t I get such feelings? Am I a cold blooded? Is this normal?

And then…

Staying alone without family or roommates now makes me crave hugs and holds but has left me without a source! (My friends here say I give a “touch-me-not” vibe, hence they hesitate sometimes) So what happens is, I often go days if not weeks without ANY physical contact. Maybe an occasional bump in the bus, or a brush while walking. Even when I am ill or down, I take care of myself without even a pat – and we all know how important pats are! It got so bad earlier this year that I practically molested this friend… not very pretty! Just last week, I counted 12 days before I touched any other person. Fine, I got many hugs and kisses on my birthday (November 22) but then back to “No Touch Pavilion”

Basically, I went from a “Don’t Touch Me!” to “Hold Me!” Even then, only a handful of people are allowed to get close and I am really waiting for them to get back in town. So till then I will be waiting here, hugging myself!

Or you can give me a hug. I won’t eat you.

*Awkwardly ending this post*

Badge: Doobster @ Mindful Digressions
Badge: Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday. The prompt was ‘sense/scents/cents/sent’ part of which fits perfectly with my mood these days.

So, spill the beans! Have you ever craved just to feel someone close to you? Or am I going mad?

Image Source

Tale Weaver’s Prompt #26 |One Operation

Jail Window

The prison cell clicked shut behind him. His new home for the rest of his life. He looked into grimy mirror and saw…

The eyes, blind. The ones that had seen the flames licking her body

The ears, deaf. The ones that had heard her inhuman shrieks

The nose, choked. The one that had smelled the aerosol that cold night

The mouth, dry. The one that had almost tasted the stink of burning flesh

The hands, senseless. The ones that had scorched from the inferno

The mind, numb. The one that ached to cry out against the horror

An unplanned witness in hiding he had been, but unluckily not unnoticed. Once finished with her, the killers had sought him – grim and merciless. The anguish and despair that had run through his veins felt like a distant dream. Replaced by the feeling of inevitability that had rooted with the deal he had struck with them.

He had offered no resistance when he was charged with murder. He could have blown away their evidence with a breath and a word. His body and his senses would have banded to expose every hole in their judgment. But he was trapped. By the invisible shackles of his heart and chained to the faint glimmer of hope that had woven like a silvery web around him.

As he saw the setting sun cast its last rays through the railed window, he knew that with his confinement he had been gifted a new ray of life. Today, as he calmly stood in his bleak corner, his daughter was being wheeled out of the operation room into the loving embrace of her mother. They would have a future filled with promises and hope paid by the small price of his incarcerated existence.

The exorbitant operation had been paid for by a “kind” stranger.


Written for mindlovemisery’s menagerie. An intense video/song prompt – Metallica’s One.

Image Courtesy: http://gallery.nen.gov.uk/assets/0709/0000/0714/dscf3164.jpg