One-Way Glass

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I don’t understand Skyspook. Not really. Certainly not the way he understands me.

I have my own perceptual and physical experiences of him. I know all too well how he looks and how he smells. I can easily imagine the sound of his voice and his laugh (and even when I only imagine this, my stomach twists and sends a lovesick bubble into my chest), how his hands feel kneading my back in the shower. And I am desperately attracted to him.

But sometimes it seems like I don’t have the first clue what it’s like to be him, and I can’t make sense of the different things he does or predict what he’s going to do in any way. I’m terrible at reading his facial expressions and body language and have a hard time judging how he’s doing or what he’s feeling without directly asking him. Meanwhile, he is an acute judge of my emotional state, oftentimes more aware of how I’m feeling than I am (as I tend to dissociate), and knows me better than anyone else has.

I want to know what makes him tick. I want what he does to make sense to me. I’m usually good at reading people, but he remains a mystery.

When I try to ask him questions about himself, I always make them too big, too daunting, too… unanswerable.

I love that he sees me, really sees me, but I want to see him, too.

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