On Birds.

Simon called me Birdy. That's who came up with that. He dubbed me Birdy because I collect feathers, and share a number of characteristics with birds. Over the years, I've discovered that it's more apt of a nickname than he knew--and feels more like my name than what my mother gave me.

I hate my first name, by the way. It's so generic, and kind of has a preppy bouncy perky girl feel to it.

Anyway.

Like the birds, I sing often. For little reason. Just...To sing.

And I suppose, like the birds, I enjoy flying free. I love to travel. I love to see places far and near, new and familiar to me. I crave an almost constant change in scenery. I dislike most forms of tether or binding. In order to be content in one place, I need to be bound with a firm totality. I need touch. I need to be desired. Needed. Wanted. Held. Loved.

I suppose you'd say that I need a gilded cage, though it would need to be gilded in more of a incorporeal sense.

The arguments I have with my boyfriend almost always center or spring from a discontentment with how tightly he binds me. Or rather, how little he does. He likes to sleep with at least about half a foot between us. More space would be better. Me? I need to be caged. I need arms around me, or a body close. I need touch, occasionally. He's not really touchy feely.

I've been sleeping on the couch the past few nights. Curled up in the corner segment of it. Pretending, as I drift off to sleep, that the closeness I feel is another body instead of a couch.

I'm kind of like a bird.

But mostly I'm kind of pathetic.