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Could I work past this fear? I miss you but I'm scared. I love you but I'm afraid of many things, most of which are probably silly, but based in real memories made long before I even knew you.
I need more time to be what you deserve. I need to accept that it's been decided for me that I'm not enough. I need to accept that you're probably going to sleep with other people, see other people, and I have to watch with my hands tied behind my back. If I am to watch you with someone else, I want it to be a version of myself of the past, delicious temptation to utilize for the future.
The bile in my throat is so thick and heavy. I want to breathe you in, make you mine in the way I am yours, but there is a distance. Do I cross that threshold, make vulnerable again what once was? And will it be accepted or will the ground beneath my feet crumble into the abyss?
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I love this time of year for the nectarines and peaches being in season. One of my formative memories was spent in Oklahoma after a several hour drive from Dallas at my nanny's family's place, sitting on a bench in front of the trailer, eating nectarines from the tree. I was about four years old, before my brother took my innocence from me and before the moment when I broke for real, before I knew my parents' love was conditional. Before I was well and truly broken, unable to be what my love deserves.
They were the best fruit I have ever tasted. I have tried to capture that energy each time I have eaten them, but it has never quite been as juicy or as sweet since then.
Looking back on it, I think it has made a permanent association with food being served at home as a love language, and the immediate knowledge of when food is served with love versus when it lacks that feeling.
My mother would make food every night but it had this sort of emptiness to it every time I ate it. My mother is not a loving person and I feel as though it translated into the food she made.
Food can be a love language. It is a beautiful thing, and I hope to serve love every time I cook for someone.
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