i am not very good at this thing they call affection. my instinct is to try and fast us forward to a point where comfort is our genre of choice, bypassing all the steps it takes to get there, rather than relishing the variations of the themes that build toward amity.
when playing truth or dare as a child, i managed to maneuver each and every turn to truth. i am not one for thrills or the spilling out of adrenaline into my bloodstream, heart racing, lips pursed, ready to burst with a scream or shout of fear or freedom.
and right now, it's as though i've somehow drawn the dare card from the pile. the little girl in me would like to trade it back for a truth because i can feel my stomach falling and the pace of my pulse picking up.
but this is where they all begin, the development of the first recurring motif; a twenty-something melange of terror, joy, panic and daydreaming. all i can do is clutch my tiny card that reads, 'i dare you not to stumble as you maybe fall' and double dare you in my head to do the same.
