Hopeless

I was born in the wrong era, for I am a hopeless romantic. I don't get it. I don't understand the culture of my generation. Why do we share our physical selves, and thus, bits of our souls, in a bout of spontaneity and possible intoxication? This intoxication may build off substances, exhilaration, surroundings, perhaps the air itself...which may link back to substances... But I joke in a serious matter. Do my peers swiftly enact their carnal desires for a quick "dosing" of serotonin, like some sort of recreational drug? Perhaps it makes them feel accepted, or attractive, or dangerous. And I am no sea slug, immune to the siren call of my own desires. I am human and driven by my instincts as much as by my own intellect, but my intellect seems to want to drive my instincts unrelentingly. I can't help feeling that a burst of physicality is nothing close to what I want. That kind of closeness, intimacy, I can only help but want to save for those I am close to, those I am willing to give a part of myself to. Because it is a piece of yourself, that kiss or whatever it is, no matter how immune you might feel to its connective power. I cannot kiss someone and then walk away without exchanging a very small piece of myself with them. These moments are not fleeting, unimportant cracks in our lives; these moments are the parts of exchange we have when we are so close to someone that we want to share it in a very heterosexual way.

I just wish everyone could see the specialness in it.