I’ve filled a hundred journals with words that haven’t led to more than passing fancy or elaborate confusion.

There are ink stains, smudges, slash marks, and scribbles where names have been. Rewrites where new names will be. I’ve circled, starred, and doodled my way through a whirlpool of crushes and flings.

I’ve slowed like an old dog. Achy heart the same as grumpy joints before a storm hits.

Sometimes it feels like the concussive waves flowing out from the skips of a stone I’ve thrown across the water. Each wave further and further away from the center.

I remember how I hid my first loves deep, deep in my heart. Afraid they’d be pried from my soul like an oyster being shucked. A forming pearl cast from safety— dissolved back into debris. The shine stripped from its coating.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that fear. That stomach churning, car on top of the hill roller coaster thrill. The uncomfortable squirming as your affections are dissected before you. I don’t have that anymore.

It’s different when you’re eager to offer— but confident in walking away. The moment isn’t forever— it’s a countdown with legs.

I sit in this hilltop home overlooking the bay. A small apartment where my living room doubles as the bedroom—- where I write these words under an orange-ish yellow dimmer light. Where my aircon pumps heat into the room on a constant stream as the uninsulated walls are greedy to suck it back out.

I sit in this room feeling further than I’ve ever been to romance. There is no crush or backstory I’m trying to rework. No lost name that calls out from the depths. There’s a funny sense of calm. Almost unsettling in the way its descended. I’ve stopped looking— because I was never going to find the words I needed from someone else. Because it wasn’t words at all. It was sitting in the moment.

Sitting under this dimmer light and going— “This isn’t bad.”

It’s knowing that for all the tender moments I’ve been lucky to experience. All the love and affection. The hair tousles and snuggles. The moments where you feel safe with a person— safe within yourself. That could be enough. I can sit here and think— “that could be all you get,” and be okay with it.