//------------------------------//
// Page 26 
// Story: Broken Bindings 
// by anonpencil 
//------------------------------//

~*~

I wish I could touch you. 

And, to be absolutely clear, I don't mean in a creepy or inappropriate way. Nothing harmful or uncomfortable or too intimate. I'd just... like some form of physical contact. You can touch me, hold me, move me, but I can't do anything back. Even if I could just put a hoof out and rest it against your chest, so I could feel a heartbeat and know you're truly alive, that would be nice. Or if that was too much, perhaps I could touch your hoof, shoulder, anything solid and real and not made of ink and paper. I don't think that would be too much to ask.

When I was first put into this book, I knew right away that, in this state, there would be certain things I would miss. I knew I'd miss the taste of food, the sound of rain. I'd miss the way a warm scarf feels on a cold day, or the way cold water feels as you leap into a pond in the heat of summer. I knew right away I'd miss feeling things around me, miss my senses, from sight to taste. But there was one thing I really didn't consider.

I miss contact with others. Physical contact.

I'll be the first to admit that, when I was young, I was alone a lot of the time. And I thrived at being alone. I could play with myself when a friend was not around. I could make up stories in my head, make up games, create things out of mud. I was so good at taking materials around me and sculpting them into exactly what I needed or what I could picture in my head. And when I couldn't do that for some reason, I could always sing. I don't know if I was ever any good, no one told me because I never sang for anyone else, but I enjoyed doing it. And that was enough for me.

When I was older, I had grown into the type of pony who didn't need others around. I liked my solitude, the quiet of my own thoughts. Being around others too long exhausted me. So I never felt like I really needed contact with others, either verbal or physical. I missed those I cared about, sure, but I didn't crave it.

I do now.

And after all this time, I feel like I finally know the difference. Back then, it was still possible. I had the ability, too, the chance. There was this knowledge that if I really wanted to, I could go outside, go down to a nearby town, and just meet someone for the first time. We could talk, we might hug goodbye. Someday, there might have been more than that, a longer relationship, one where physical contact was the norm. I never had a kiss from anyone but my parents, but I heard they were nice. I never really felt like I needed one, or that my life was missing something without it, but I suppose there was a distant curiosity. There was that possibility for physical contact, even if I wasn't chasing it right then. There was a hope for a future I could choose to pursue, or not. But now? Now...

I have this. I don't even have the ability, the chance, the prospect. Just this. And not having that power? Makes me feel like I need it.

Maybe this is part of what I am supposed to learn. I do know how much power words can have, that they can reach in and touch people if we give them enough meaning. And they can act as an extension of our emotions and intentions, almost like a caress or punch. So, maybe I can't touch you, really, and you can't touch me either. But if you'll let me, maybe I can extend my feelings and my intent so you can feel them too, in a way.

Perhaps you'll let me try to make contact with you through my words, if I have not already?