In your early 20's, you met a man named Milo. He was a sweet man. You loved him, and he loved you. He seemed hesitant to be touched by you, which worried you little, as you thought he was just nervous.

After a while of dating, about a year, you began to notice how he hadn't stopped being hesitant to touch you and to be touched. He also seemed to struggle to take care of himself. He rarely took showers, barely brushed his hair, etc. You were quite concerned.

One day, you sat down on a couch across from him.

He glanced up from his phone. "Hm?" he asked. You asked him why he didn't like for you to touch him. He sat still, staring forward as, it seemed, memories came back to him.

After a few moments, his eyes began to water. Tears rolled down his cheeks. You hesitated to go to his side, not knowing if he wanted you to touch him, but did anyway. You placed a hand on his back as he poured his heart out. He told you, through sobs and sniffles, how he had grown up in an abusive household and was afraid to be touched.

Once he calmed down, he looked up at you. He sniffled before speaking. "I'm s-sorry.." he mumbled, another tear rolling down his cheek. "I didn't mean to trauma dump.."