Yet, it also means that every relationship in my life is bulletproof (I mean, mostly), that my friendships are lifelines, and that my found family is the closest thing I have to utter and complete belonging.
At 2:49AM on May 27th, 2021, I wrote in my journal, “how can you not want to hug, kiss, cuddle, and cherish your friends as if they’re your soulmates? I think about them everyday, about how deeply in love with them I am.” I’ve always been a little afraid of holding their hands for the fear that I would be seen as too affectionate. And that might have something to do with my intensely desi upbringing, I was taught to never show too much vulnerability, or to let people in.
But now, at all of twenty, I am beginning to unlearn, finding freedom in gestures of adoration, in reassuring touches in crowded rooms, in hugs that last a few beats too long, and in the love that grows around the worlds we create for ourselves. And I am left asking myself, “will anyone ever love me the way my friends do?” Probably not.