I find myself constantly asking how many times it will take me to undress myself in front of someone knew until it doesn’t feel like anything anymore. How many more will it take until I feel my heart beating faster than the electricity running through my body when your hand touches the small of my back. Do you know how many times I’ve looked at someone and the feeling of them pulling me apart was more calming than the thought of them wanting to talk to me. Figure out who I am. Hear my stories and my flaws. I rather have someone pull my clothes off than pull the masked blanket I have pasted over the memories I have dug so deep into who I am.