She spent no time placing the foreign object inside me and clenching its cold steel to hold up my walls. By the time she peered inside, and was ready to reach into my warm place, she found that my legs were inclined to fold in together, and when she stood to peer at my face, my fear and uncomfortable expression froze her. She felt rough and pushed hard. I bled into her palm. Compassion wavered over her professionalism and she was close to holding me as a means of comfort.
The sky screams gorgeous blue this morning. We turned on the radio and laughed about embarrassing father-related stories. I could never call my lover "Daddy" in bed. Am I so scared of confrontations - I have little to say except for my discouragement and reflections of nervousness when I speak to most people. The periphery on my character must be lacking in that sense. I think that I'm ruled by fear.
This thin membrane of an eggshell is almost entirely enclosed. The doctor sympathetically lead me through the steps I need to take, and promised me we will meet again. I hope our next meeting won't be so painful.
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