Unlinked page disclaimer

It appears that you have come upon one of my unlinked pages. This means one of four things:

  1. Least likely, but possible, is that you are some sort of government agent looking for things about me. If so, you will probably find signinficant evidence of mental unstability, but I tend to wear my radial oppinions on my sleeve. Go back to the main pages for those.
  2. Second, you are a curious person who is better at computers then I am and somehow scraped this off my website. If this is the case, stop being nosy. But go ahead and read this if you want, I suppose its an ok reward for the other stuff you probably had to sift to get here
  3. Third, I have decided to link this page somewhere and declassify it. This is likely due to some unforseen scenario that is evident and I will not try to forecast here.
  4. Fourth, and most likely, is that you are someone I know in another context. If you are reading this, it means that I have decided to share some deep, secret part of myself, secret in the way that I can't bring myself to speak it aloud, secret in the way that if it were known I feel like I would stop existing the way I do now. I will not ask that you treat it gently because some things need to be broken, and my sharing means I trust you to make that judgement, nor will I ask that you take responsibility for it because with this I wanted to share knoledge, not a burden.
    Just know that in what follows, I am being as serious as a post-post-Ironic fuckhead can be, as honest as a pathological liar can be, and as vulnerable as a raging paranoiac can be.
    Good Luck!

Hugs destroy me.
I have a generally very positive immage of my own body. Looking in the mirror, properly clothed, I look awesome and even without my second skins I don't look too bad. I have a carefully built and maintained musculature, a constructed macho-preformance myth to justify it, and a wild personality to pave over all visual faults.
A hug slices straight through all of this. In an instant I am reduced to a clumsy bag of sharp joints, strained sinew and hairy, oily skin. My movment freezes, my skin is too hot and too cold, My muscles squeeze too hard and too soft and both are akward and the whole "not showering" excuse is shown as the immature hollow excuse and I am wearing my rancid fuckin belay jacket and oh my fuck did I just flinch what kind of psycho flinches when they get hugged...
If you know, you know.
Predictably, all of this scares me. But yall who know me know how I approach things that scare me. Both feet first, feel it untill it is normal.

So, to recap: I 1. Recognize hugs are an expression of care from someone I like, and I like that. 2. have a significant adverse psychopysical reaction, which I don't like. 3. have a long-term conceptual fear of this reaction making me unhugable, which I don't like. 4. want more hugs, so that I can get over 2 and 3.
So, that is why I am so weird about hugs. And I have no idea how to start to change it. Like who asks just straight out to be hugged more? What right has someone as akward as I to start hugging more? How can I even be in a loving, not fucking, relatoinship without beating this and how do I beat this witout that? Is this a kindof common thing, or is the problem that I have read too much meaning and expectation into hugs and they arn't really as big a deal as all this to most people? If I have so many problems with it and did without for so long, why do I fall asleep every night hugging my blahaj in a death grip?

Oh well.