Deep in the throes of infatuation again. It never gets old, everytime it happens. I just wish I didn’t find it so sticky.
What was it I used to say I wanted? Love without consequence? Maybe it becomes real when I accept the consequence.
I guess when my heart was fixated on someone not truly there, I felt invincible. There is a power in believing in something untouchable, something of a fantasy. I remember the trepidation we both felt at introducing elements of daily life into whatever it is we had. We have? The feelings are real.
“I hold on to him like a guiding light, like Jesus,” I told my friend once. But now I feel like something’s changing. Whatever this is with 🫘 feels like something completely rooted in reality. The lives that we both want intersect and entwine. I can see the chemtrails.
Is this maybe something new that makes me feel uncomfortable? Maybe out of control. I shouldn’t want something so much, I tell myself. I listen to 🎂‘s piano recordings obsessively like I’m trying to discover a secret. Or trying to keep myself a secret.
I wonder how much of it is romantic delusion (my favourite) but then I think about us walking hand in hand through fields of satellites, talking for hours on long bus rides, long train rides, kissing everywhere. It feels so natural.
I want this curiosity in my life, I think. I love listening to him talk. I feel activated. I think what he’s done with his life is amazing. I love holding hands with him at the sento. “We’re so good at life!” I say. Maybe we’re doing so good because we’re doing it together.