077. I pull it from thin air.

Tell me...do I not feel? Do I not own and capture these things called feelings?
I do because they say I do...however...me? I get mine from another place. I choose to be comforted by objects that cannot seem to love me back. Material items that make me feel as though I'm on top of the world. And then it's back to basics. I'm free and alone with my one sided love story. A love story only me and my new kicks will know about. Because I refuse to let myself be loved. I'm so used to having objects with no brains share affection that I sit frozen when a warm blooded creature offers up their soul like a deal with the devil. I am not the devil. I'm hardly close and if I was...I still would not make anyone give away a soul. It's theirs to keep and I do not want it. I want no part of what they are trying to give me. A hand to hold. A shoulder to lean on. A kiss for my trained lips. I shutter. Even if I gave up building that wall I've come so far with...it would be far too expensive to tear down. I've hired workers already; the best kind in fact. The kind with strong, rough hands that place bricks up around my 5'4 self. Your daily drama does not interest me in the slightest. You see, levels of intellect stimulate my senses and take me on a ride all its own. I find solace in the pages that I read and therapy in the words that my mind fuses together. There is no time for stories of your lovers or pleading silently for my body to erupt with jealousy. If you keep trying, I stop trying. My mind works differently and is that bad? Possibly. I need to crave you. I need to crave every single bone in your body and miss you even when I feel your breath on my neck. And this cannot be forced or duplicated or represented in a manner that is conducive with a person such as yourself. So no. I shall stick to my single subject love affair with my accumulation of material because that, you misguided mess of chromosomes...is constant.