Intimacy. I’ve never really understood that glamorous term. « Things that happen when in a close relationship with a person » the internet might say. This definition sounds outdated to me, in a world where people share intimate moments with strangers all the time. Brushing (accidentally or not) your arm against the person besides you at the movies, or spontaneously sharing very personal things with someone you just met more easily than with your best friends or lovers. No, intimacy is when you share a part of you even though you know that the other person’s response might hurt you deeper than ever. It’s not ripping your clothes off, but slowly, gently, item per item removing them until you are fully bare to whatever might come next. You might ask why is it so hard to be intimate with our dearest. The answer is in the word, intimate. From Latin « intimus », which means deepest. You are revealing your deepest, purest self, and you fear it won’t be enough. I get easily intimidated by someone I suspect know me too well, and I usually flee. You might react otherwise, but it is a threatening situation that forces your body into a physiological response. Your deepest self, may it shape itself as long as needed, at some point will reach a place of no return, and when you know that this is it and it is unchangeable, people who won’t like it will either have to piss off, or accept it. But the most important is that you accept it.
My physics enthusiast older brother loves sharing new interesting facts he leaned in his studies. All the ways gravity affects everything, infinity and « beautiful » equations he found. On one of our many conversations on the topic, he told me about an equation concerning the integral of a sequence of numbers and letters that I didn’t understand. He said « there are rules to apply in order to get to the answer, but once you apply those on this specific equation, the answer cannot be found. There is an answer, but you can’t get to it. You just have to believe it ». I got really confused. Maths and physics, being the most accurate fields in providing me proof of how the world works, has turned on me by telling me to believe the answer exists but it is impossible to get to it. As you might think, my belief system started to shake. Now remembering this conversation, I understand that there are bigger things than us in the world, things you can’t control or prove. And I don’t mean to make this text religious, but the fact the maths couldn’t give me the proof of that specific answer, did give me proof that there are things that you just have to believe in, even if you can’t see them.
She has a manly kind of sitting even though her gentleness and femininity are unquestionable. Anyone could be sitting in that manner, but it wouldn’t look like when she sits in that manner. Not trying to show how comfortable she is with herself and her body, but legitimately just comfortable. And she might not perceive herself as I just did, I might even be the only one in this cafe who perceived her as such, but I always wonder if the things that are the most obvious to me in other people are just the things that I am self conscious about? I might be a little self conscious of being alone, and I’m trying to run away from those thoughts by creating new ones about somebody else. I am alone in the world and I am realising slowly that you really aren’t ever alone. Because every person you meet engraves a part of them in you, that you probably liked in this person subconsciously or consciously. You will always carry your past with you, and if you decide to, you can change it.
Reading the newspaper at breakfast
Is something I’ll never do
This year isn’t the roughest
But it is something new
Those white sand beaches
Now seem so far away
My spirit seeks to avoid the truth
Unquiet trying to lay
In my mind
I remember the first time I saw him. I had to sneak a few looks to really believe how beautiful he was, and still is. This might sound dramatic, but everything about him is. Everything else went quite and insignificant when I looked at him, like an angel. Without having spoken to him, I could feel his intensity yet approachable energy. The way he looked in my eyes so deeply, as if he knew all my secrets. The striking vivid blue of his eyes carved in my mind forever. We had an extremely beautiful attraction, it was unquestionable. But this high only led to a terrible low once I couldn’t manage the amount of surrealism in our relationship, just too good to be true. The same feeling I felt when I started furnishing my appartement, slowly making it harder and harder for me to escape if I ever wanted to. I know he really liked me, or maybe the idea of me, and I liked that idea too, for a while, of being the one that will quiet all the mess in his life. I couldn’t take the responsibility for him, and I couldn’t stand to be so significant for another. When everything moved so fast I got mixed up in my thoughts. In this process I found I was the flight type, and he is the freeze, as he freezed when his best friend got shot. I believed I was a dreamer and could get carried away by my feelings and intuitions but I guess I have an unbreakable realistic side, and to truly feel love the two must collide.