#auteurs

I remember how back then love was simple. It showed up without warning. It filled my days and stayed with me at night. It made small things like going to school feel huge and exciting, and even the pain of not being noticed felt precious. Missing someone hurt, but the hurt felt warm, like proof that what I felt was real.

Nowadays I wish I had loved more back then. More than one person. I wish I had let my heart open wider instead of pouring everything into just one place. I didn’t know that this ability had an expiration date, or that it could change shape so quietly.

Because now, everything goes through a filter.

I don’t fall the same way anymore. Feelings don’t crash into me; they arrive cautiously. Attraction passes through thought, memory, self-protection. I can notice someone, find them beautiful, feel a spark, and still go on with my day as if nothing happened.

It’s not that I can’t love anymore.

It’s that I can’t love blindly anymore.

What I miss is the version of me who didn’t hesitate, who didn’t measure the cost, who let love be loud and overwhelming. Back then, even pain felt worth it. It meant I was fully there.

Now I’m safer. More composed.

But sometimes I miss being undone.

Retrouvez moi avec les autres ploucs arc-en-ciel dans Queer des Champs, un zine fantastique made in @ortie-pnk

Dans le numéro 1, je vous raconte l'histoire de ma grand-mère "La Nine", et dans le numéro 2, quelques récits courts de mes premières expériences de queer rural catapulté-e dans une grande ville.