your love is warmer when it's held

and other ways closeness is not a threat.

Credit: his hands if you, Buhl Collection (1940-1950)

As someone who was never great at math, I find it incredibly comforting to know that not every moment has to count. At least not immediately. Joachim Trier said, “We can only understand our life backward, but we’re forced to live it forward. We go through things that are completely inexplicable and mysterious. And then years later, we realize.”

The Worst Person in the World, Joachim Trier (2021).

As soon as I turned thirteen, everything became embarrassing. Emotions felt eternal, and trying felt like a humiliation ritual. For some reason, though, uploading videos of myself on the internet didn’t count. I spent a lot of time on Tumblr, Vine, and YouTube endlessly creating and consuming. Following trends and picking up rituals courtesy of people I’ve never met. It was one of those times in life when you find it much easier to paint yourself with colors that don’t belong to you. It’s okay to pick up blue or borrow a yellow, important even, but it’s even more important to remember you always have your own.

Credit: Pinterest

I turned 25 two weeks ago. And I am starting to understand that my emotions reflect experiences and circumstances, not my identity. So, if I could tell my 13-year-old self one thing today, it would be this:

Never worry about embarrassing yourself in the pursuit of closeness. There are worse things to chase. You are craving what it means to be known; allow it. At times, it’ll be uncomfortable. Bite the burden anyway.

Credit: Pinterest

For a while, I was pretty protective of my own feelings, desires, and overall joys. Diluting them a bit if I shared them in order to offer some kind of shield of protection that didn’t exist . I thought I’d outsmarted Vulnerability by showing the wrong empty hand on purpose. It never worked, though; I’d look down and find both of my hands empty. I don’t think most things thrive in isolation.

Credit: Ketty La Rocca

If you ever find it difficult to share custody of the things you love with those around you, imagine them being loved the way you do.

Care about it. Cry about it. Tell them how you feel. And let them in. Allow it. Because your love grows most when it’s warm. And it’s warmer when it is held, listened to, and understood.

Credit: Nikki Giovanni, The Collected Poetry, 1968-1998