studies of passion and love where people arent objects and love isnt conditional or transactional OR how to exist and love in a capitalist consumerist world
This could be the last time that I refer to you as "you". I feel it now, slipping further and further away. I've always loved the pronoun though, how three letters can signal the entirety of my world, how everyone, somehow, has a you, recalls a name or face.
Well — I found a note called "how to describe you to the people who will come after you". It's a weird conversation that I've gone over a few times in my head. I'm not sure what the point of the exercise is — to assert my boundaries with someone else, or to marinade in my gratitude for you. Maybe both.
I've had the closest thing to a night out on the town now. Normally we'd just be getting started at 12am here, but we're thoroughly in the pandemic and it all shuts at 10. Still, I'm glad to be in a place where I can be out at all and I can drink my wine and speak another language and talk about how to negotiate with my best friend who joined me here. Yeah, I'm a lucky fuck, but still I'm agitated.
I was brushing my teeth. I was looking in the mirror and remembering your blue toothbrush and how you once had the same pink electric Oral B one as mine. I don't think about you a lot like I used to but right now I'm wondering where you are, if you got into grad school, if your hair is longer and mostly if you're okay. I want to reach out to you and tell you everything that I'm writing cus I'm a damned romantic and all that but I don't know what's the use. Is it selfish to want to let you know where I'm at and what you did for me? I don't even want a reply (it would be better if you didn't); I just want you to know.
When I think of you now, I'm just so grateful that you crossed my path at all, that you awakened something in me that I hope I can always carry forward. I'm not sure if your memories of me have soured or if you feel the same way but I hope that you do.
It sounds strange to say, but I don't want to do you wrong with the next one. What I mean is that there are opportunities to settle, to give in, to accept far less than I deserve. And I just have this feeling right now that it would be such a disservice to you and us to step back like that. I'm erratic as hell, I can tell you that, but it's the one thing that grounds me for a moment. Otherwise everything that happened between us would be a waste, and that would be the ultimate shame.
Thank you for being everything that you were to me. Thank you for stepping up in every single way that I needed you to. I still remember us there, the warm summer night, outside Piccadilly Circus hugging each other hard for the last time.
In Greece I thought to myself: you have to let people out into the world and maybe never see them again and trust that they'll live a good life. If I believe in anything, I believe that you'll live a good life. Fuck.
Nothing you become will disappoint me; I have no preconception that I’d like to see you be or do. I have no desire to foresee you, only to discover you. You can’t disappoint me.
This is your reminder that love can be soft. That you are not asking for too much in this world, or this generation, when you strive to find something foundational. That you don’t have to settle. Because don’t you deserve to find someone who chooses you the way you choose them? Don’t you deserve to find someone who reciprocates your love, who wants to encourage your growth and see you realize your dreams and celebrate birthdays with you, and milestones with you, and make the sunniest kind of memories with you?
Don’t you deserve to find someone who wants to stand by your side, firmly, and know deeply in their heart that you are something special, that you are their favourite thing? Don’t you deserve to find someone who sees you — who actually sees you, in all that is light and all that is dark within you, in all of your mess and all of your virtue? Don’t you deserve someone who loves you there?
Don’t you deserve to find someone who knows, with a ruthless certainty, that they found the kind of human being they want to protect? Don’t you deserve that kind of beauty? That kind of peace?
Don’t you deserve to find someone who shows up? Someone who wants to laugh with you in bed at 2am when you both can’t sleep. Someone who wants to be the reason why a smile dances across your face? Someone who wants to make dinner with you, and slow dance in the kitchen with you, and squeeze your hand at the scary parts of the movie you’re watching together? Don’t you deserve someone who wants all of that? Someone who wants to be in your life? Someone who chooses depth over distance?
This is your reminder to let go of anything that does not serve that version of love in your life. Give yourself permission to let go of anything that does not want to hold your heart. Let go of those who will only ever love you in halves, who will never be able to give you what you deeply desire. Please, just don’t hold any space in your heart for those who are not showing up to claim it, because love is not meant to be pain. Love is not meant to hurt. Love is good, and you deserve good love. Release anything that does not honor that. – RAINBOWSALT
"Choosing your partner is like choosing a painting. You don't choose the best-looking one, you choose the one that makes you feel something"
There are five apology languages:
Expressing regret (“I feel ashamed for how I hurt you.”)
Accepting responsibility (“I was wrong for doing that to you.”)
Genuinely repent (“I can only imagine how much pain I caused, I am so sorry. I won’t do that again. Next time, I will do _____ differently.”)
Making restitution (“This is how I will make it up to you _____.”)
Requesting forgiveness (“Will you forgive me for letting you down?”)
But what isn’t romantic about people going to each other’s houses? And not in the “showing up on the doorstep in the rain with a boombox” type of way. I mean, the familiarity, the routine. I mean knowing where the extra toilet paper in the bathroom is, which burner on the stove doesn’t work, where to park when you get there, and where the extra blankets are for when you need to sleep over. To go to another person’s house, to be in their space continuously, is inherently romantic.