Dreaming of foreign destinations.

We officially reached the point where my pain memory stops and the romanticising begins.

And I found that I love women in a way that is pure and true and I found that I love men in a way that is hesitant but true. But beyond that I found that I love real and raw and true, that I love the thing beneath the surface, hidden by defense mechanisms, envy and hurt. I love people with such true vulnerability that it's impossible to miss their real faces. I love the raw, unfiltered truth. Which is probably why it is so hard for me to find love that sticks. Because truthful expression hardly does.

I wonder how people without anxiety feel like. What do you think when you go on a trip to a city in a foreign country on your own? Are you imagining worst case szenarios as well? Are you researching every miniscule information about the hostel, the location, the public transportation so you don't embarrass yourself or have an anxiety attack in public? Does your skin crawl? Does your stomach twist with nerves? Does your breath loose its way in your chest?

When I'm with her, I feel myself retracting my light, my honesty, to fit her space, which is so much smaller than the one I have created inside of me. And I feel myself dull and change. And suddenly it does not feel like such a sacrifice to see her go.

Look at you doing the things you were once so afraid of.

The first touch of her lips made everything fall into place. Like I've been spiraling and searching and finally found what I was always looking for. I felt safe and cherished and cared for. And the bar around us seemed to fade away. There was only she and her lips and her hands that gently traced my jaw down to my neck. Never before had I felt like this - so perfectly in place. So secure- so sure. I fell in love with her right then and there.