touched by a stranger

I was touched by a stranger tonight, someone who wanted to see me from where I see me, my true real self. Why someone would take this position to see me I am unsure, surly there are others that would seem to be a easier target, simpler prey to be devoured, but me, I am the one chosen by this stranger to be probed, why,...

An experiment, a test acted out to probe the mind, the body, the heart and soul of a lost child wanted to be found, or a need for the stranger to understand themselves from my eyes. Almost as if planed from the very beginning this stranger watched me, wondered about me, and questioned why, what, how the gears of my mind set me to tick. Noticing my right hand from my left, peering through my outer protective shell beyond the concrete barriers and brick walls that surround me. This person wanted to discover me, have I been played, an inquiry to my being, or was it real, did this stranger want to see me. They paused the world to look into me, they wanted to take the time to look at me and try to gasp what scars have forever tempered my soul.... Then again does it matter motive, the reason, it was truly an outlet to release feelings bottled up for a lifetime, does it matter motives if the experience was truly a self focusing, learning experience for me to stop and look at myself. To see myself for real. Once again to look, to remember the scars that will forever blemish my soul.

Do I capitalize on the experience for myself, me , me , me, or do I ponder the greater picture of why someone would take the time to try and know me. Truly special, or an interesting subject to master, was the player played by this lil-1. I wanted to give this to this stranger, questions, questions, do I hold back, do I give in, do I go farther, do I stop, to be or not to be.... I will never touch this place, this deep place that I have visited tonight; I can never go back because to much is known. I feel as a nude dancer at a grand ball amid the crowd. The experience was one that I will never disregard, the thoughts that control my mind reflect me to the mirror to see all the things I do not see, I want to see them I want to grow from this experience and apply the knowledge learned. From two separate worlds, this stranger and I, but yet ,... I feel surrounded by this overwhelming presence pulling me closer making me want to share those feeling and release them to an inner ear.

This stranger’s skillful style gathered more information about me then possibly most others whom I have known forever have ever bothered to obtain. Is it because this person cared to look, to ask about these feelings, is it that I do not express these thoughts to others because they do not ask to receive them. I wish to always speak to this stranger to always talk, listen write and feel the feelings of scars that have burned the soul, but two worlds apart this person will throw me to the wayside as the cob of the corn after a special meal The conversation will never be as complete as it was tonight the reasons never so pure. I will want to touch that plain, the feeling plain of true emotion.

Strange coming from someone who suppresses emotion so well that many believe it no longer exists, to tell all, feel all, and listen. I am almost sure that this conversation was not for the other as it was for me, I do not believe that I touched as was touched by this stranger. Again, does it matter? Does it matter what the stranger stole from me or only that while the stranger removed this part did I truly see it, touch it, feel it as it was being taken away. I gave of myself freely, and it was real. I wish to return to that plain someday, by letter or by plane, I would want to visit again. This person played their cards well and left me open, but the open is freely free when the door is opened from the inside.