An Essence

"I exist as I am—that is enough; If no other in the world be aware, I sit content; And if each and all be aware, I sit content." Walt Whitman

[suhaylah]

green landscape (2018)

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[shear-in-spuh-rey-shuhn-deactiv]

GUSTAVE BAUMANN Tares Woodblock Print

[midnightinthemagicmicagarden]

I Just Wanna Be Close To You

Watercolor On Black Paper

2026, 9"x 12"

Purple Larkspur, Annual Delphiniums

[santorini-dreams]

[expressions-of-nature]

by Mikhail Zagruev

[sunbathe]

[petaltexturedskies]

Katherine Mansfield, in a diary entry dated 14 October 1922, from Letters and Journals of Katherine Mansfield

[saintmarc]

[unforgotten-flowers]

Am I really so damaged now to not care about romantic love? Have I made myself not care or is this growth? Is it good that I can be happy alone now? Or am I punishing myself? Are my walls too high from all that I’ve endured?

When people ask me why I haven’t had a relationship for four years I say it’s because I’m too busy. Which is the truth. But it’s also because men have always disappointed me. They’ve traumatized me. And I no longer know how to trust. No longer want to trust, to let go. Am I broken?

But also no one ever wants me anyways. No one I want, wants me. And I don’t even know what I want anymore. It leaves me wondering if I’m really just gay now. But how will I ever know when nothing ever happens? At this rate may end up alone forever but I don’t even have the energy to care anymore.

I’m so happy in every other facet of my life right now. The success is here and keeps on coming. My health is here and it will continue. I tell myself I can be happy alone, this way, as long as I am healthy and thriving in my career and traveling in the summer. I truly can. And maybe I should remain content and not ask the universe for more. Because I truly am happy and I truly could be ok just me forever.

Maybe my romantic soulmate doesn’t exist in this lifetime. Maybe they weren’t born or maybe they died. Maybe I missed them this round. I know in some lifetime(s) I had the most beautifully incandescent romantic love because innately I know what it’s supposed to be like. My heart has danced that dance. My soul has merged with another. But this lifetime? This one? Some days it really feels like it will never happen. And maybe that’s just how it will be.

Somewhere in a small corner of my heart I still hang onto hope. But I’m not sure it can happen when 1) I detest men yet still want to be with one in some ways and 2) I can’t seem to break ground with women or enbies. And I don’t have the energy to try anymore. I don’t even have the energy to convince my fwb to fuck me and we have only had sex once in 10-12 weeks. Can you believe that? What’s even the point. I’m not even that attracted to him which is a shame because he’s kind and smart and wonderful but I don’t know what to do. And yet again I wonder if it’s just because I’m not attracted to his face or body—just picky— or if I’m actually gay.

I don’t know why this has gone in the direction it has but I feel like no one understands anything about me or what I want anymore because I don’t even know. I don’t even understand. I think above all I just want some intimacy. Safe intimacy. No strings attached but no fear of pain. And that turns out to be difficult to find.

(I want to talk to my mom about all this so badly. But I can’t bring myself to do it. To flat out tell her. I’ve tried to hint at it before and she kind of shrugs it off. I know if I chose to make a big deal about it she’d truly support me. But also I don’t think she has an understanding of romantic relationships at all. The relationship she’s had with my dad has really been her only relationship. And it’s horrible. And that’s what was modeled to me and that’s why I’m so fucked up with men).

[aaaangel444]

[soaveintermezzo]

[yama-bato]

Luca Ortis

[huariqueje]

The Blue Gate at the End of the Long Border - Francis Hamel , 2020.

British , b. 1963 -

Oil on linen , 66 x 56 cm.

[lunamonchtuna]

— Jean-Paul Sartre, from The Flies (tr. by Stuart Gilbert & Lionel Abel), 1943 (via lunamonchtuna)

[unforgotten-flowers]

I possibly no longer believe in romantic love. I find myself fantasizing about living by myself in my own house, living my own life. I see myself with an occasional, monogamous lover, but they don't live with me. We meet up when we feel like it and go about our business, and it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. We're both intelligent, and keeping our space keeps us interested in each other, slightly mysterious over time.

I don't want someone living with me. I don't want anyone taking over my life. I don't want anyone holding me back. I'm so done with obsessing over people. I want to obsess about ME. I want nothing to get in the way of all of the goals I have for myself. I want to teach and live and work where I want. Travel and do what I want, when I want, without someone telling me it doesn't work for their schedule. I want someone who has just as robust and independent a life as me to join me on my journey. But we live in different houses. We have different friend groups that only sometimes overlap. We are dedicated to our work. We do our own thing. There are no children involved (and no pressure for me to have them). We proofread each other's papers and manuscripts, provide creative critique, share book and music recommendations. On the surface it's light and easy, underneath it's deep and fulfilling.

The challenge is to find someone on the same page. Why are so many Americans the absolute worst with relationships? Why are so many dishonest and untrustworthy? I'd be able to do something like this without any issues. I am honest to a fault. But could someone be that way for me? Could someone keep my trust issues from choking me? Could someone not cheat on me in such a scenario? I think it could work with the right person, one day.

This idea is becoming more and more appealing to me. Who am I?! The Pisces in me is coming out full force.

[unforgotten-flowers]

I keep reminding myself I'm doing all of this so I can one day have it all: a tenure track teaching position, a little house with a lovely little garden of flowers and fruits and veggies, a cat or two, nectarines on the counter and a jar full of local honey, homemade oatmilk in the fridge. I want a piano and record player again, gauzy curtains on light-filled windows, delicious afternoon golden hour, as I eat a tomato whole fresh from the garden and contemplate making a decadent tomato-nectarine-basil salad for lunch tomorrow. Will I indulge in a little cheese? I'm reading a novel, not research materials, in a room with floor-to-ceiling shelves covered in books, wearing a cozy matching set, hair half-up. I feel content, whole, heart runneth over, etc. Maybe someone's here with me, maybe not, but it doesn't matter. Mom is nearby. I see a butterfly flutter through the window, the breeze gently moves through the leaves of my beloved olive tree. I smell sage and jasmine and orange blossom as it softly wafts through the screen of the open window. Lavender-lemon balm tea in my favorite mug. I've just finished a successful semester and have a month-long trip back to Italy and Greece maybe(?) coming up. I'm healthier than ever and will remain this way. Life is good. Life is what I've always wanted. Life is a dream.

[pmamtraveller]

Igor Shcherbakov - Lovers. Two On The Bridge