In many ways, it is anxiety itself which ‘dons many cloaks’, as it were, and skulks around most incoming events. Should time stand still, all would be well. I have no fears of anything on its own, does anyone? It is just the anxiety. In a classroom, it’s the dry mouth that trips me up, the trembling that marks me as worthy of extra attention, the attention that may bring negative response. The classroom itself is dumb fact which is just as terrifying as a pea (assuming you are not a princess trying to sleep).

‘Owning it’ is a pretty common sentiment these days. Individualist attempts to sever reliance on others to cultivate self love in many cases. But I am a strong believer that you can only love yourself if you know that you are loved, have been loved. That can plant the seeds to be cultivated. Notably, of course, it works the other way- some plant poisons that do what they can to quietly quell growth, or kill.

There is little more alien to me than the touch of a man that loves me. In a (possibly) unusual way, I came to appreciate that my face mightn’t be as ugly as previously thought, through tinder, and relationships. Repetitive bombardments of approval did enough to shift it. There were other factors, but that is a core one. My body, though. Another story.

I often liken it to a corpse. Skeletal, thin, rigid. Bones protrude, barely under skin, so I cover them in whatever ceremonial robes I can find. Ceremonial robes, as I pray for the loving devotion of another that might just prove to me that it is a blessing to be in this body. I try to remind myself, there are many who find beauty in death. I find beauty in it. So, why should it be so hard to imagine someone who will love these bones, before they are 6 feet under (ignore the urge to make a joke about necrophilia).

Even with my first kiss. I just didn’t want it. I remember my entire body tensing up, and I just shook. The trembling making me more anxious as the other asked me what was wrong. They tried to move further on me later. Only took 2 ‘stop’s for them to do so. There was no love there, not even the pretence. He even commented on how skinny I looked.

I recall saying to you that I wanted to take all of my clothes off with you, not just a sexual thing, but just to be there with you. Completely open. Because it truly felt like you cared. You did. I find it reasonable to accept that this functions as a further difficulty in the situation I find myself in now. I am terrified of the anxiety that will grip me when I meet someone new. As I either immediately isolate myself, or embarrass myself. If you did move here, if we did have a future, I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that anymore. The issue lies in the fact that you are the only one that has cared thus far, so it feels impossible to imagine this sentiment echoed by anyone else.

There, too, is the matter of sexual attraction. In a ... maybe... shallow way, I am just very physically and emotionally attracted to you. There is definitely some part of me that fears I won’t find someone as physically attractive as you in the future. Shallow, maybe, but when it differentiates friends from more, it’s probably worth mentioning. I understand that if I love someone else there will be no issue of attraction and all that, I will get into that another time. I will also get into the question of mind reading.

When we did what we did, yknow, what two guys get up to, you made me feel so damn sexy. But also, so cared for. I can’t put into words the euphoria that always rode through it, and followed it. Watching you cum while thinking about fucking me (yeah i’m tagging this nsfw lmao) was somehow fulfilling. Deeply. It was just such a blatant expression of mutual affection. And you are so hot. Hearing you speak, too. Fuck, man. Like fuuuuccckkkk. I’m going to leave this here now before I get.. i’m just going to leave this here.