I need it.

I’m not sure why. I have suspicions – I imagine that, as an infant, I cried, unattended, in my crib, longing to be held.

Maybe this happened.

Maybe it didn’t.

Psychic truth may or may not have anything to do with objective, real-world events.

My psychic truth is that this happened, and that, as a result, I find myself, today, both craving and fleeing touch.

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