I often feel as though I’m living a double life (or perhaps a triple one, or more). There are facets of my identity that become either more obvious or more hidden, depending who I’m with. Maybe that’s why I”m attracted to spy shows – Covert Affairs, Nikita, Burn Notice, Alias. I’m already adept at hiding my identity from the world. I’m already a double agent working against my true self.
But if I am truly leading a double life, then why does my life feel so empty sometimes? Like I’m not even leading one full life, but half of one.
I just got a new body pillow. My old one was quite raggedy, it was lumpy and half its original size (from the stuffing being compacted) and the cover was faded, stained, and downright nasty. I’d had it quite a few years, and used it regularly. Now, I can’t wait until I cuddle up to sleep with the new one in a few minutes. I can’t cuddle with a real body next to me, so a pillow serves as a distant second.
I haven’t had someone to sleep with (and I mean sleep next to, not the euphemism for sex) for most of my life. And I want this so badly. I yearn for it. I sleep better with someone next to me. I wake up without hating being awake. Maybe this is partly why I’m an insomniac, with a horrid and strange sleeping schedule, who hates mornings.
I’m craving, I’m aching for, some human contact. Some human love (of the kind other friends and family can’t provide). Some human passion. I want to feel desire for something that’s in reach, not just a dream or a film or a work of art that is impossible to have, to feel, to experience in person.
I don’t know where to find it.