let me be soft

How does a person gather their thoughts?

a strange feeling has settled inside me about writing. i don't know if it's because i can't gather my thoughts or because i'm hesitant to bring them to light. it feels like if i admit their existence, they’ll become real. though what is reality anyway? that’s something we could talk about at length another time.

until i finally sat down to write, i kept postponing these thoughts, scrolling for hours, ignoring that voice inside me that kept saying write, until it grew too loud to shut out. so, where should i even begin?

after two years, i have to move out of my apartment. somehow, i feel deeply attached to this place. let me take you back a bit. two years ago, i was living in a basement, a caretaker’s flat. everything i owned was molding. the windows were as small as a shoebox. still, i liked it. the location was convenient and the rent wasn’t too high. but when my sister wanted to move in with me, and the dampness started blocking my nose constantly, we had to leave. it was incredibly hard for me to let that place go. friends who visited would compare my flat to a coffin. but for me, that place held all the memories of a relationship that was falling apart but that i didn’t want to end. all my experiences, the struggles and the sweet days, were there. leaving meant admitting that chapter had to close.

i resisted accepting this new apartment for a long time. but eventually i made it feel like home. and after closing that chapter, so many new things opened up for me.

now time is telling me this place has also served its purpose. a new path is calling. even though i want to embrace it because i’ve learned from before, there are still so many things troubling me. mostly financial concerns. and the recurring question i ask myself: why can’t i take root? but is that what i really want? i thought i wanted to taste everything, to travel, to keep moving. yet here i am, torn between opposites again. i know i’ll get through it, but lately it feels like i’m procrastinating everything. the to-do list in my head just grows and grows. it feels like i’m back in the loop from a few months ago. like i’m stuck. like i take two steps forward and one step back.

but as a friend of mine once said, i don’t need to justify. i just feel bad.

the other day, a feeling i couldn’t name rose strongly inside me. when i let myself really listen, lying in bed in the quiet of night under dim lights, i realized i missed intimacy. deeply. it clawed at my insides. i don’t know what triggered it or if i’ve just been ignoring it for too long.

i’ve been practicing self love. i’ve been feeling better. i’m starting to see my beauty in the mirror. the body i used to only search for flaws in, i’m finally holding. my big hair, my thick thighs, my small breasts. my skin. myself. each day i become more certain that the things that will make me feel whole are not out there. i’m nourishing myself, and the more i do, the more beautiful i become.

but there is a feeling i cannot replace. sometimes when i come home and the darkness settles in, the weight pressing on my chest is simply the need for closeness. not because i need someone. i just want to let go sometimes. in my silence, to have hands gently stroking my hair. in this life where i’m constantly running in survival mode, i want a quiet harbor to rest in.

a friend recently told me, in the middle of a conversation that had nothing to do with this, that i need like someone who needs a partner who will make all the decisions and handle everything for me, where to go ,what to do. he said i want to appear free, but i don’t want to be free. at first i knew he was projecting his masculine feminine relationship views,in his way. but the more i thought about it, even if his conclusion was off, something about it rang true. maybe i’m tired of carrying the emotional weight of all my relationships on my own. i want to be able to just hold someone. softly. gently. with no expectations. to share the silence. to open myself fully to someone. to trust. yes, to trust. to be able to lean back without fearing i’ll fall off the edge of a cliff.

and when these feelings rise, i’ve noticed i often try to distract myself with short term solutions. i found myself downloading dating app again, only to delete them moments later. i realize this isn’t what i want. not like this. i don’t want to force anything. instead of changing the feeling, i chose to listen to it. i let it disturb me that night. so that everything i had tucked under the covers could come to light.

to be accepted. to be chosen.

i convinced myself i wasn’t beautiful enough. you know how it is, when you're a teenager and want boys to like you. back then, the pretty girls in class got asked out every break. that never happened to me until maybe the end of high school. in middle school, my dad didn’t approve of our school skirts, so he made me one himself. it was a long, skort style skirt, past my knees just above my ankle. our actual uniform ended just above the knee. every morning i would roll my skirt up to at least that length. i’d roll it so tightly it would bunch under my oversized shirt and squeeze my thighs when i sat down and hurt me. i could never go to school without tights. seeing and remembering these things made me feel even uglier, even more ridiculous. if someone liked me, i would question it or not believe it. eventually, i began to seek attention online, from older men behind screens who pretended to be friends.

maybe that’s why, in recent years, i found myself dating very attractive men like i was trying to prove something. and when they treated me poorly, i let them. now, when i see a message pop up on my phone from one of those guys saying "baby girl," i just think, ew.

when i think of that, i want to hug my 14-yearold self. she just wanted to be chosen. and honestly, i still do. i’ll admit it. sometimes, i just want to be chosen. because i haven’t chosen myself for years.

everything became a performance so that the other person would like me, choose me. both in sex and in relationships. that sweet, shy voice of mine would come out of nowhere. that face that didn’t object to anything. i never liked her. but i couldn’t let her go. during sex, i only thought of pleasing the other person and i never reached orgasm. because i was afraid that if i voiced what i wanted, they would leave.

now, it’s almost the opposite. because i don’t trust, i don’t open up. i don’t want to be someone’s emotional trash can, or be someone else’s. that night, i just wanted to be understood. and maybe a little tenderness.

i went to a shibari event. something i had wanted to do for a long time but had built up in my mind. because i didn’t even fully know myself yet.

i thought maybe being tied could open up space for trust and surrender. i prepared myself carefully so i would feel comfortable at this kinky event. probably hundreds of conversations in my head beforehand. but still, the nerves weren’t calmed. in fact, i wanted to be in a situation where even if i felt uncomfortable, i couldn’t run away.

i never liked people looking at my feet. i couldn’t even look at them myself. but that day i went barefoot. that challenge, that exposure, felt so erotic to me. i sat all night with my feet stretched out. and it paid off.

when i watched the performances, one in particular captivated me. i wasn’t sure if it was the shibari or the woman’s beauty. i found myself wondering how good everyone there must be in bed. when that girl came and sat beside me, i told her how much i loved her performance, how aroused i felt when the other woman hugged her during the tying. and she said something that made me pause. “ah, so you liked the connection part.” yes. connection. seeing the trust had excited and mesmerized me.

during our conversation, she told me she’d rather be on stage than talk to people, that it made her nervous. that reminded me of something inside myself. it made her human in my eyes. i felt even closer. it was a reminder that i tend to put people on pedestals. seeing the emotional bond between a couple gave me something too. i can get jealous, because i’m afraid someone else will be chosen instead of me, or that they’ll leave me. watching that beautiful couple gave me hope about trust. maybe with the right person, you could have completely different, beautiful experiences.

and feeling all of this brought me more pleasure than anything else. to be able to see myself. to feel myself. to be aware of myself. that’s the most erotic thing i’ve felt in a long time.