Sometimes I imagine seeing a prostitute - not for anything sexual, just to see someone who'd be comfortable touching me if I really need it. I guess it's a less complicated way of admitting how touch starved I am, than imagining a whole relationship. It's sad I guess but no more sad or bittersweet than the general texture of life. I'm an animal. I rub my arms and simulate being held. It shouldn't be all that hard; maybe I'll have time in this life. Society treats me as a freak for being trans but at least my desires are straightforward to me. I just have to keep living.