Boundaries

My fear of people exhausts me.

My muscles ache from holding them clenched so tightly;

always bracing for the sudden impact of

Someone else’s interest in me.

(Who hit you? My therapist once asked.

No one, I said. But if I hold myself like this

There will be less of me for them to judge.)

I consistently avoid eye contact.

Because  if I look at someone directly,

They’ll climb inside me and inspect my inner parts,

Poking and prodding where I feel it the most.

Can you see where I’m going with this?

All human contact is raw and ardent

And most of all, physical.

So I never feel like I’m wearing enough clothes.

My fear of people exhausts me.

I’m tired of the muscle aches,

The lowered eyes, the cold.

No one actually wants to hurt me.

If they're anything like me

They just want to climb through my eyes

To find something of themselves

Some sort of reflection, some validation

That they'll be remembered somewhere.

If they're anything like me (and they are!)

They're looking inside someone else

Just to be reassured they're still alive.