Hurtful

 Copied from my Substack. One of my more typical dreams.

I was approaching my usual haunt in town to grab a green tea and a nice cake, and a woman with spiky hair approached me. At first, we exchanged banter, but it became clear that she was terrified of me.

We had both been talking about the things we want. I am notorious for not wanting many of the usual things people want - nice house, fancy car, relationship, sex - but at one point, I was about to tell her what I did want.

I took a half-step forward, saying “Well, I want to -”

She took a full step back, fear and revulsion on her face.

I felt my whole body change. I went cold. My eyes stayed open, but my whole facial expression shut down. I looked at her for a silent moment, and then I finished what I was about to say, with a different ending to the one I’d planned.

“- TERMINATE … this conversation.”

And then I went into the café for my planned green tea and cake.

No, I'm not warm. I am not cute. And I am not cuddly.

I'm the sound of cracking ice underfoot when you're crossing that frozen lake.

I'm the shadows you must go through to find out what's in those woods.

I am the chill in the air in the heart of an Autumn night.

I live life like this, to the full, and if you're expecting an apology for daring to live, to leave you behind cowering in your wistful dreams, fearing what the equally pallid, timid creatures next door think ...

... Don't hold your breath.