I hate how whenever everything’s on fire I want to reach out to you for comfort. It’s been a habit, and I still make that association. Really, I want to be held tight and cuddled, this is a different need from touch deprivation. You can’t help me. It’s not really what I want anyway. Yesterday a lawyer called me a strong woman when shaking my hand. There’s admittedly some pride there but he was being kind and what’s there to be proud of from enduring suffering for over half a year? I treaded too carefully for far too long trying to maintain a relationship with an entity that threw me under the bus as soon as I escalated for help. Even the strong need to be comforted. Sometimes they probably need it more.