7.28.25

Something that I was manifesting for a long time. 

A nightly reminder of how far I have come. 

And how delicious this silence is. 

I’m feeling vulnerable. 

Coloring in my coloring book, watching Modern Family. 

She is snoring next to me. 

I love her so much. 

And the vulnerability is raw like fresh meat. 

I don’t know if it’s a chemistry thing. 

Or a polarity between us. 

But I am letting her see my whole entire self, right up front. 

And I’m not even trying to. 

It’s like, if for one second, I tried to hide any part of myself from her, 

I would be betraying her. 

She has been sure about me from the start. 

Like sure. 

Like I’m not going to fuck this up sure. 

Like I’m going to worship the ground you walk on sure. 

And some reactionary part of me said, okay - game. 

Let me show you what you’re in for. 

Let me show you all of my flaws and my struggles and the true depths. 

Let me show you the parts of myself that no one else ever sees. 

And see if you still think I’m worthy. 

She laughs. 

She doesn’t bat an eye. 

My heart is racing. 

It’s so hard to write. 

It’s so precious and so perfect and I feel as though I’ve doubled down on my vulnerability by choosing to write about this now in the wake of these feelings.

It’s a push to continue this sentence. 

I just keep thinking: 

Isn’t it nuts how we can open our legs to people but not like, spiritually open our legs to people? 

I think of all the relationships that I’ve been in where I am masking and hiding so much of who I am in order to be good enough for them. In order to not get too deep in the dark. 

And here I am baring my naked soul for the first time. 

Baring it all for love. 

It turns out: A healthy relationship can also feel like a vulnerability hangover. 

As I grieve the version of myself that was single, the thing I miss the most is the part where I was never perceived by anyone if I didn’t want to be. 

I could hide, unnoticed for days, toiling in my own spiritual dramas. 

With no one around to influence me or my process in any way. 

This is what we call a spiritual hermit. 

This is not who I am trying to become. 

And this is the exact catch with relationships in a spiritual sense. 

You agree to someone fully witnessing you.

Everyday. 

Living your life. 

Going through it all, by your side. 

Being seen, through your hardest moments. 

Mask off. 

Let me say something not enough people say: 

THAT SHIT IS EXHAUSTING. 

Being perceived is terribly frightening. 

Letting people see you and hold you through shit is not easy for everyone. 

And having someone love me so unconditionally and consistently… 

It’s pushing and poking and prodding at so many wounds in me. 

So many parts of me that don’t feel worthy. So much unravelling. 

That sometimes I do see why it might be nice to go back to being lonely and invisible. 

Perhaps this is the first time I’ve felt truly witnessed. 

Like I am the prize here. 

Like I deserve the best. 

Like I get to be cherished. 

It’s called fucking princess treatment. 

Her motto is, “you’re always right baby.” 

Finally, someone sees how brilliant I am. 

And yet, is also feisty enough to call me in when I’m out of line. 

Out of line with my own integrity, my own purpose, my own path. 

And that’s also vulnerability. 

I have to be 100% myself with her. 

Or else it is a betrayal.

Because she wants to love Jane. 

Not some iteration of who I think she wants me to be. 

I’ve tried that enough. 

I feel like this is what love was always supposed to feel like. 

Unconditional. 

Without question. 

Trust isn’t even the right word. 

Trust is a verb. An action. Something you have to remind yourself to feel.

So why would there need to be trust? 

She’s just my person now. 

This is a knowing. 

I always professed about this radical concept of “queer joy.” 

I think of Julian Baker’s guitar. 

It’s this concept that queer people can have lasting happy and healthy relationships & lives, etc., despite being queer. 

Sad right? 

But this ideology spelled out for me as something I could attain in the future - it really inspired me. 

It motivated me. 

I wanted that. 

Because I think that one of the deepest most homophobic beliefs that I have had to work out of my body is this: 

I don’t deserve a healthy relationship because I am gay and we’re all fucked up. 

It’s true. 

I believed that for a long time. 

We’re all unpacking our own bullshit here. 

But… 

would it be so crazy. 

For me to even believe. 

That I might have that easy, happy loving queer relationship? 

Like right here sprawled across my entire king bed? 

There’s a voice in my head that laughs at me as I type that last one. 

“You fool.” Those are the words I hear. 

Just a reminder of all the times I’ve been in love before. 

But the difference here is, 

I’ve been waiting for this. 

I came to Tulum for this. 

I manifested this. 

I deserve this.