I am 5 wanting to cry and needing safe arms.

I am 10 and all the times I could have been comforted but wasn’t, is right in front of me.

I am 15, angry and hurt, desperately trying to find some shred of love—for fucks sake somebody hug me! Desperately needing an adult to let me be angry and still love me.

I am 20, feeling alone in this big world. Twenty and trying so hard but missing something big. I am 20, lunged over the toilet and needing someone to be right there, holding my hair.

I am 25. I’m fine, totally fine. But when anyone touches me my body says run, fast.

I am 30 and ashamed and guilty and ready to stop feeling so many horrible things.

I am 33, built from 5 and 10 and 15 and 20 and 25 and 30. And I just need to know I’m safe and loved and I find it easiest to get there in person, in contact, embraced. I find safety and love in all the things that suddenly can’t exist right now. It simply feels too hard to cope.

There is literally no way to help me. I feel sick to my stomach and panicky.