i love my mom, when she’s on the phone i’ll go on her lap cause i’m an attention-seeking-needy-ass-harlot, and she doesn’t even pause, she just keeps talking while scritching my head and rocking me on her knee.
I realized recently that I’m actually not that into cuddling???
Like, unless it’s immediately post-coital???
I don’t care for being smushed on the same couch having my hair touched or sharing my bed or my blankets or my general…space? Idk.
I’ve been on my own for so long and I value my bubble so much that it just feels kind of invasive. Have I been single for too long? Have I become truly cynical? Afraid? Closed off?
Maybe it’s just the person? It’s a science experiment I don’t feel like doing tbh.
It’s just such a weird thing to learn about myself.
Natsume Soseki mentions his own name in “I Am A Cat”
A (human) character named Beauchamp states:
“‘Annotation, critical commentary, and exegesis, all these may be left to the scholars. We poets are not to be bothered with such trivia. Only the other day some fellow with a name like Soseki published a short story entitled ‘A Single Night.’ But it’s so vague that no one could make head or tail of it. I eventually got hold of the man and questioned him very seriously about the real meaning of his story. He not only refused to give any explanation, but even implied that, if the story happened in fact to have any meaning at all, he couldn’t care less. His attitude was, I think, typical of a modern poet.’”
“‘He may be a poet, but he sounds, doesn’t he, downright odd,’ observes my master.”
“‘He’s a fool.’ Waverhouse demolishes this Soseki in one curt breath.”