Dear Future Me…

I hope that you have lived well so far and learned how to love as you have never loved before. I hope you get your fill of dinners, laughter, and security. I don’t mean filling up with others’ love, in particular, I know how fond you are at bending for each will that isn’t your own. I mean love to the point in which you no longer fear lacking it because you have hopefully come to realize that you have copious amounts to take in. I currently worry that I am incapable of being anyone’s partner. I am 23 years old now and have never experienced the warmth of what feels like forever. Perhaps it’s because I fear people leaving or even greater my fear of being overwhelming to a significant other. Or maybe my body isn’t enough and all are aware my body is not meant to be felt and expressed with a partner to call my companion. The lingering identities of promiscuous feminine and overly expressive sexual deviant have given you this single reassuring factor: you are only as good as your body. I hope you have overcome this feeling and given yourself that space and boundary to explore your sexuality without fetishizing sex. I hope in all health you are practicing a healthy lifestyle. Exploring the copious amounts of love an individual will provide for you appears in many forms and I hope you no longer struggle in noticing them within yourself and others. Love is long drives to satisfy my obscure snack cravings, love is refilling my water bottle, and love is waking up at the same time to ensure no one is running late or sleeping in. Love is platonic, love is more. I hope you have become all the much more.