Mine, mine, mine!mine.MINE.My-ne.Me.Moi. There is something very basic, primal, very true and undeniable about the instinct of posession.

One of the first skills a baby will learn is to protect his or her "belongings", his or her space, his or herself. Posession, holds some obscure, ultimate truth.

Myself.MINE.No, you can't have that. It's wrong. That's stealing . You haven't earned that. How do I know you will give it back? How do I know you will keep it safely?It's mine.Mine forever.

NO!I said no. i flail my hands around helplessly, like a baby.angry, irritated, crying.stupid dumbass. I thought I said that was mine. Oh, I never said it outloud did I?

But I'm not a baby.I draw my physical boundaries tentatively, with an unsure hand. There are backdoors. And I leave them open. And it is no fault of yours.

What a selfish, babyish thing to do. Sharing is caring afterall.

But I'm still a baby.I feel scattered. And I have not yet learned the difference between what is mine exclusively and what seems to be mine exclusively. I have not learned to notice the subtle nuances, of when it is alright to share, and when that basic instinct, of posession, should be allowed to reign freely.

And so until I grow up, I will not risk giving you something which you might lose, something that I might need later. Maybe it's stupid, maybe its selfish. But it's mine. And I would rather feel whole, thankyou.

Stupid dumbass.