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I miss so many things right now.
Like, my bed at home. My puppy's little belly. Real Arabic food.
The thing I am wistful for most right now, though, and for the past few weeks: physical closeness. I really miss the feeling of being enveloped, being touched gently, feeling pressure and that flutter within. I'm not completely without being touched, of course, but the touches I get these days are brief acknowledgments of my presence and my form. And they are fine, acceptable, pleasant for what they are.
But they are not enough.
I want to be acknowledged for my gender, for my physical presence. Everything I am is from the inside, but it is expressed fully on the outside.

I like being touched. Babies die without being touched. Why? Because it is our most basic form of showing love, caring, even just a lack of disgust with someone else. We've been touching since the dawn of human forms. The easiest way to send a chill or a thrill through me is through the lightest of touches, of an expression of...something. It can express so much-affection, excitement, anger, hate, lust, love.
Everything is in what we do, more so than what we say. A touch is a bottom line.

And I miss it. I miss the romantic parts of touch, the excitement that I am there in physical presence. I miss being held. I miss it.