No. No, split it.
It makes more sense when you break the thought down: what makes me? What makes me tick? Tick; like a time bomb?
What makes me?
Perhaps it's more like what made me.
That, right there is... a problem.
It’s not what makes me tick. It's not who either.
And I do tick, slick and sick. Unbelievably sick, I tick.
Like Mr Grayson said in class everything can be traced back to some point in the past. Like he said it was “Nature verses Nurture?”
Well, that statement presumes too much. He means nature, as in the natural order of things? What if his understanding is limited -- based on preconceived ideas, that have no basis in reality?
When he said Nurture, he meant like the hands that held? The care given? Again, that suggests –
But, I do want to feel. Physically. I want to feel something without fee, or dues. I don’t want payment or rewards. I want to feel something real.
Hands are blunt weapons, they lead to plasters, bandages and hospital visits.
But, I do want to feel hands and arms.
When people connect - make a physical connection - it is more than complicated it's binding and blinding.
I want to feel simple touches.
Don’t give me that look; you said you’d listen.
I want to be free to feel.
I’m not free.
Don't you love it when bits of the book turn up when your asleep? If you are lucky, like I was last night, you have a note book and and pen (that works) by the side of the bed. I was relieved this monologue turned up in such a sensible place. I would have hated to have missed out on any more of Will's struggle to make himself understood.
Where is the oddest place an idea has occurred to you?