Jesus probably touched himself, too. It’s okay.

There are those days where making every limb and appendage of you coalesce into a productive, waking, walking body seems like the harrowing ascent of Mt. Everest, or the descent of Christ into Hell to free those righteous captive led astray by the oh-so tempting devil. It’s a task.

I ‘ m  n o  c l i m b e r.

I ‘ m  n o  C h r i s t.

But this is one of those days.

I’m a sensitive person.

Not ‘Tumblr’ sensitive.

Not ‘little bitch’ sensitive.

Not ’empathic prick’ sensitive.

Not ‘crybaby’ sensitive.

But at times, I still shiver.

For me.

For you.

For others.

For family.

For God.

For lack thereof.

Call me cold.

I’m technically a man, but I still say boy. I’ve paid taxes. I’ve owed taxes. I’ve paid my owed taxes. American to the grave, I suppose. The only things that are different about me since I’ve become an adult is that I’m slightly more well hydrated, I need to shave, I have short hair, I have daddy-issues, my eyes don’t tell my brain the right things anymore, my neck hurts, and I can’t just masturbate out of boredom like I used to. 

Shucks.

I enjoy talking to fewer people, but I’m better at it now. I’ve learned how to forgive. I’ve learned how to be forgiven. I’ve learned how to be guilty. I’ve learned how to guilt. I’ve learned how to think. I’ve learned how not to think. I’ve learned about others, and I’ve learned from others. They help me learn about myself, and learn from myself.

I learn.

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