I keep hearing
“Be grateful for what we have.”
And trust me…
I am.
Because what we have feels rare.
Like finding warmth in the middle of winter
with no coat on.
Like being understood
without finishing the sentence.
And maybe that’s why this hurts so much.
Because how can something feel this real
and still feel unfinished?
How can love be “realer than real”
but never make it past conversation?
We’ve mastered the deep talks.
The soul talks.
The “I see you beyond your trauma” talks.
But what happens
when the lights go low
and my body starts asking questions
my spirit keeps trying to answer?
You tell me connection is enough.
But connection alone
doesn’t color the picture.
We’ve got the roots.
Strong ones too.
And we’ve got branches stretching toward each other
trying to survive every season.
But where are the leaves?
Where is the color?
The warmth?
The hunger?
The passion that makes love feel alive
instead of preserved?
I’m not even talking about sex.
I’m talking about being wanted
without hesitation.
Being touched
without it feeling like a negotiation with guilt.
I’m talking about knowing
that when you look at me
there’s a part of you
that aches to close the distance.
Because if you can’t even picture touching me…
then what exactly am I holding onto?
An idea?
A spiritual connection?
A beautiful almost?
And maybe that’s what scares me most.
That I’ve fallen in love
with potential energy.
With “maybe one day.”
With emotional intimacy so deep
it tricks me into ignoring
what’s missing right in front of me.
So now I’m standing between my heart and my mind
and neither one feels safe.
If I follow my brain,
I leave.
I choose logic.
I choose the part of me saying
“You cannot survive on depth alone.”
But if I follow my heart…
then am I choosing love?
Or am I choosing to slowly disappear
inside somebody else’s boundaries?
Am I choosing a lifetime
of starving quietly
because the emotional connection tastes just good enough
to ignore the hunger?
And that’s the question nobody wants to answer.
Is a sexless, touchless love
still a full life
for someone whose love language
has always needed warmth?
Or am I sitting here
trying to convince myself
that roots and branches
should be enough
while the entire tree is begging for leaves?
