The man cannot rest 'til he's finally beaten his needs

I need.

I need to write so I turn off the lights, turn on the music, take off my clothes, and get into pajamas.
Oh, but I'm not sure of what to say.
Today I pushed my body. Running faster than I should be able to considering the shape I'm in, but I was able to. I gained momentum because I thought of all the muck inside of me. If I concentrate hard enough, I feel the pain/sadness/loneliness/frustration congealing itself against the lining of my stomach, burrowing into the crevices of my bones. I ran hard and fast and now I can't walk. Living metaphor.

Tonight in class we talked about relationships, what people want while they're in them. Jarring, isn't it, to have it hit you in the face "I had all that". I went home and ate leftovers and then watched tv with Vanessa.
I told her last night, about me. I told her what the past eleven years have been filled with. I told her why D is so important to me and still is, how his importance was cemented the night he put his hand on my stomach and told me I am beautiful and okay the way I am; his hand encompassing the whole of my body in that moment. I can still feel the shock that went through me, the sensation of jumping into a cold pool simulated by his touch and words.

I told her about Friday: How Vince looked at me and told me I have a disease. He gave me a diagnosis. No one has ever done that and in that moment I found a weird sense of validation.. affirmation that Yes, Something Is Wrong. Then he asked me if I am ready to get better and I told him I had to think about it.
You see, there has been so much change lately that I did not ask for. Too much has been taken away without my permission and sometimes this feels like the last piece. Logic doesn't always have to make sense.
She understood and she smiled. And she hugged me and thanked me for sharing with her, for trusting her enough.