I don’t remember when I met N, but I remember when I fell for him. It was late in the evening in the college library, and we were whispering about the sort of things you only ever whisper about. There was an unspoken pull between us but both of us enjoyed the challenge of restraint – for a while, at least. One day, I toppled, and he steadied me without asking questions. The silent agreement, in that moment, was shattered and we began to seek familiarity in each other’s skin with the intensity of two people drifting through strange environments. The conversations yawned at 3am became lifelines that pulled us through each day.
I met G at 11:30pm on a Thursday night. We had both been welcomed into a new community we were meant to feel comfortable in, but processing names and faces and relationships always takes a little longer than you expect; we sat with our legs crossed nervously on the sofa as everyone buzzed around us. A few months later and she crossed the room to hold me because ‘I just need a hug from you right now.’ Afternoons were spent exchanging stories and assurances (hey girl I’m always here for you) and shared smiles on the infrequent occasions when things went better than we could have expected.
P was a chance encounter at an event I hadn’t planned to go to. I snuck in at the back, right at the end, just to see if I was missing anything. Hi, he smiled at me, offering his hand to shake – and we began to exist in each other’s worlds. Each moment with him removed a cordon from an area one of us had silently blocked off from other people. It was like excavating a site, treading carefully, holding oh so gently, analysing intensely. He brushed off dust from places I hadn’t even stepped foot into, and to look into his eyes was to be so breathtakingly seen.
I was 6 when I met S. She tells me afterwards our first exchange was her asking me if I was a boy (the perils of a short haircut on a young girl) – but it would be like her to make that up. We were two lionesses in the same pride, and so much of what I know about navigating conflict I learnt from her. We spent every summer together, and she became part of the tug and whirl of growing up. We pushed each other to breaking points just to see where those points were, and then shared our milestones over nail polish and tea. I was there for her first kiss, and she listened to my hesitant confessions of things I never planned to tell anyone.
The moment I laid eyes on C I was struck by the potentiality between us. Yes, him, I remember thinking emphatically. It took two years of friendship spanning time, countries, and contexts before I told him the way he made my heart tremble and my cheeks hurt from smiling. With him, it was like slowly pushing a raft off the shore into an oncoming storm. It was meant to be so cautious and considered but the pull of the tide and the lure of adventure snagged us, and I rarely had time to catch my breath as we whirled further and further offshore. He reminded me how limitless the horizon is and how dangerous it is to fall into someone so vibrant. I drowned in him, and it wasn’t until he left that I remembered how much I liked the feeling of ground beneath my feet.
H and I first spoke when I complimented her on her shoes. They were stylish, I remember, and her smile of surprise and appreciation quickly morphed into messages and catch ups and long hours spent lying on our backs chatting at the sun. On New Years’ Eve we sat in a room with the blinds pulled down and lit a candle before falling asleep on the lower bunk. I called her when the ground was disappearing under my feet, and she called me when her mind was being torn in two. You’re one of those people I can’t imagine my life without, she tells me, and I remind her how much I love her shoes.
Love is a spectrum, and every day I fall a little more in love with someone. In the moment when they open up their closed fist and offer you a trembling part of themselves, how can you not be overwhelmed by how beautiful and precious they are? I cannot reach out a hand to touch someone’s heart without irreversibly sharing a part of myself – my own heart is a collage of fingerprints left by partners who stand beside me, soulmates who hold me, and memories that fade behind me.
I met G at 11:30pm on a Thursday night. We had both been welcomed into a new community we were meant to feel comfortable in, but processing names and faces and relationships always takes a little longer than you expect; we sat with our legs crossed nervously on the sofa as everyone buzzed around us. A few months later and she crossed the room to hold me because ‘I just need a hug from you right now.’ Afternoons were spent exchanging stories and assurances (hey girl I’m always here for you) and shared smiles on the infrequent occasions when things went better than we could have expected.
P was a chance encounter at an event I hadn’t planned to go to. I snuck in at the back, right at the end, just to see if I was missing anything. Hi, he smiled at me, offering his hand to shake – and we began to exist in each other’s worlds. Each moment with him removed a cordon from an area one of us had silently blocked off from other people. It was like excavating a site, treading carefully, holding oh so gently, analysing intensely. He brushed off dust from places I hadn’t even stepped foot into, and to look into his eyes was to be so breathtakingly seen.
I was 6 when I met S. She tells me afterwards our first exchange was her asking me if I was a boy (the perils of a short haircut on a young girl) – but it would be like her to make that up. We were two lionesses in the same pride, and so much of what I know about navigating conflict I learnt from her. We spent every summer together, and she became part of the tug and whirl of growing up. We pushed each other to breaking points just to see where those points were, and then shared our milestones over nail polish and tea. I was there for her first kiss, and she listened to my hesitant confessions of things I never planned to tell anyone.
The moment I laid eyes on C I was struck by the potentiality between us. Yes, him, I remember thinking emphatically. It took two years of friendship spanning time, countries, and contexts before I told him the way he made my heart tremble and my cheeks hurt from smiling. With him, it was like slowly pushing a raft off the shore into an oncoming storm. It was meant to be so cautious and considered but the pull of the tide and the lure of adventure snagged us, and I rarely had time to catch my breath as we whirled further and further offshore. He reminded me how limitless the horizon is and how dangerous it is to fall into someone so vibrant. I drowned in him, and it wasn’t until he left that I remembered how much I liked the feeling of ground beneath my feet.
H and I first spoke when I complimented her on her shoes. They were stylish, I remember, and her smile of surprise and appreciation quickly morphed into messages and catch ups and long hours spent lying on our backs chatting at the sun. On New Years’ Eve we sat in a room with the blinds pulled down and lit a candle before falling asleep on the lower bunk. I called her when the ground was disappearing under my feet, and she called me when her mind was being torn in two. You’re one of those people I can’t imagine my life without, she tells me, and I remind her how much I love her shoes.
Love is a spectrum, and every day I fall a little more in love with someone. In the moment when they open up their closed fist and offer you a trembling part of themselves, how can you not be overwhelmed by how beautiful and precious they are? I cannot reach out a hand to touch someone’s heart without irreversibly sharing a part of myself – my own heart is a collage of fingerprints left by partners who stand beside me, soulmates who hold me, and memories that fade behind me.
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