Reachy

I'm reach-y right now. Hands out, grasping at strings of affection, regretting that the people I want are all far away. I value my room to move and the excuse to run away occasionally, but when I find myself putting a hand out to brush a shoulder that isn't there, it aches a little. I'll be okay, I'll make it through, and if I do it right I won't annoy my people with repetitive mentions of fondness and need. But my heart is reaching, trying to cross a distance that I just can't cover right now. Forgive me if I seem a little distracted, not all of me is here right now.