Part I Outside a storm is raging. The wind howls and beats wildly on the window panes. We are stoned and semi-unaware of the natural violence waging war just beyond the walls of your house. I am tucked into one corner of your couch, you are as far away as your tiny couch will allow. Slowly, gravity draws us closer together. Closer. Closer. Until you find an excuse to get up, to distance yourself. I try to give you space. To give you time. Selfish me wants you back on the couch, freely handing over pieces of yourself, the way I so freely handed you pieces of me; more like dumped on your coffee table and spilt across the floor. I ask, more like pester. You respond by giving me a piece of you in the form of listening to songs you recorded. Night falls heavy on your house. Your voice is hauntingly beautiful in my ears, drowning out the howling wind. Your serenade pulls at my sutures, threatening to tear open wounds I am still mending. I am nearly in tears but do not let them fall. Thankfully you are unable to look at me while I listen in awe. Suddenly we are closer. The closest we can be without touching. Each inhale causes an accidental caress. I can feel your pulse through the static fizzing between us. I am ecstatic to feel this way about someone. There is a thrill in the state of being so-close-but-not-quite-touching. I want to stay in this state. I refrain from closing the space between us to prolong it into the New Year so that my year starts on a buzzy electrifying high. However, I am still learning I have no control over others. "I like you, like a lot." The words flood from your mouth as if the storm outside had burst a window. I have to close the space, to wrap myself around you, hold you. I lose myself and the moment debating the safest course of action. Heavily, leaning towards lie. Lie about my feelings. Lie about the gravity that is pulling you to me. I can't. I am terrified of what will happen next but still whisper a response of reciprocation. What follows is the most chill conversation; an exchange, more of your pieces for mine. Patience felt easy because I felt like I could trust all the pieces would eventually fall into place. All of the excitement released, exhaustion takes over. You use the storm outside, concern for my safety, as an excuse for me to stay. While you may have some concerns for my safety, we both know it is your roundabout way of asking me to stay. There is no safer place than wrapped snuggly around each other under the warmth of your duvet. Part II Late evening sun is streaming through your open door. It caresses me, warms me, calms me. From my point of view, in the corner of your tiny couch that I have claimed as mine, the sky is cloudless burnt blue. In any other circumstance, I would have the impulsive need to shower after such an active day. In this moment, in my corner of your tiny couch just before the sunsets, I am calm. I am reveling in the last rays of this glorious day. I am content in this moment, as you hand me my tea and settle next to me. You are radiant in this evening light, living art for me to touch. Maybe I am calm because of my calming tea, or the fact that you made me tea, or maybe just because you are here to share this moment with me. I can not un-see the glimmering orange rays casting over the grassy-green hills through your front door nor can I forget the feeling of them on my skin. I set my tea down to stretch myself across you and your tiny couch. You comment on how uncomfortable I look. Now that we are touching, a circuit complete, I am impossibly calm. It is you; this electricity, this gravity is you. All the previous smaller moments of gravity were just confirming I was slowly making my way here. For the first time, there is nothing and no one else. No past trying to drag me back. No future pulling me forward. I am fully present in this circuit created by us.
Part III
Corrosion has caused a disconnect. I am flailing livewire threatening to burn myself and everything round me down. Cut the power. Where is the kill switch? There is so much distance even though you are sitting an arms length from me. The static fills the space but it is exhausting. The excitement is gone. I am burning out from the buzz, I can't turn off.
Calm strikes me in the micro-seconds we accidently brush in halls and doorways. I still feel your heavy on sad days and hurt because I can't hug you. You made it clear I am not what is best for you. I accept there is someone better for you but wish I would not have lost so much; my favorite place in corner of your tiny couch, the calm, my best friend.
Lessons learned: sometimes it is okay to lie to protect myself, other people do not feel what you feel, sometimes gravity is wrong.