whimsy

love & isolation are so strange because in solitude, u create all these perfect scenarios for your imaginary darling—you would cut them fruit & dance in the kitchen & always kiss them twice in case the first one doesn't take properly—but as soon as you're given the chance, you fumble. it's so mortifying, having not practiced but taken so much time to plan it out, & you finally get your shot & you can hardly hold their hand or meet their eyes. you want love so badly & you've been deprived of others for so long, your actual capability is distorted. you wince at their touch or can only leave them small gifts when you're out of the room. the intensity increases, the thought that you don't deserve softness heightens. it's a terrible cycle: wanting & wanting & letting that want turn to a festering that ruins it before you can reel yourself back

“I may think of you softly from time to time. But I’ll cut off my hand before I ever reach for you again.” - The Crucible, Arthur Miller

my favorite relationship is the one between humans and dandelions. in childhood we instinctively blow on its little fuzzy seed carriers. we take the role of the wind, we help the dandelions in a crucial part of their lives, and in return we get a wish and a moment of happiness. this is how nature is meant to work. we are just as unaware of our goodness as the honey bees are, pollinating the flowers 

i dont know why we spend so much time writing about unrequited love when the saddest type of love is that with a time-limit. love that doesn’t want to end, but is forced to. time that deserves more, wants more, needs more, but has to stop. two lovers forced to go separate ways, two souls crying for one another across oceans. every touch feels like a goodbye, every kiss is tinged with sadness. these are the stories that break us like no other because these are the stories we can’t bear to imagine for ourselves. anybody can handle somebody never loving them in the first place. but how do we learn how to live without our other halves? how do we get used to that loss?

i dont know why we spend so much time writing about unrequited love when the saddest type of love is that with a time-limit. love that doesn’t want to end, but is forced to. time that deserves more, wants more, needs more, but has to stop. two lovers forced to go separate ways, two souls crying for one another across oceans. every touch feels like a goodbye, every kiss is tinged with sadness. these are the stories that break us like no other because these are the stories we can’t bear to imagine for ourselves. anybody can handle somebody never loving them in the first place. but how do we learn how to live without our other halves? how do we get used to that loss?

okay so basically when mitski said i will wash your hair at night and dry it off with care i will see your body bare and still i will live here and when ilya kaminsky said you can fuck anyone— but with whom can you sit in the water?

so what if i’m obsessed with non sexual forms of intimacy. so what if i’m obsessed with the eroticism of love when the sexual element is absent. what if it’s not about physical conjoining but simply looking at someone and acknowledging they exist and being soft with their existence. and saying for no other reason at all except the fact that you exist, i am going to love you. what if simone weil was the only person who understood how love works when she said that love is looking without eating. that absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.

thinking about the woman who bathed jesus’ feet with perfume and tears. and how very shortly afterwards jesus washes the feet of his disciples. how gentleness is cyclical. we show it to others, we show it to ourselves. they pass it on like a kiss or a secret. as humans we constantly ask “will you wash my back?” and we look for someone who instead of answering yes will just pick up the soap.