Thursday, October 01, 2015

Another week has passed and I feel even more at home in this foreign country. The sun is low as I write and the moon has a strange glow to it, almost as if I am seeing it for the first time. 

I feel I can at last write about what it is in my heart, and I'm not going to be blase about my previous relationships - for they were meaningful - nor am I going to witter on about a new found love.

I am content with myself, because I am seeing myself for the first time. I have always been aware of my actions and I know how I look to most people, but to the new man in my life, he has opened my eyes, pointing out my effervescent facade within an instant and pulling and eking out the parts of me that I tend to hide. 

We joke that we knew each other in a past life, kindred spirits who were meant to find one another again. It is not such a love that will blossom and bloom, but rather it is a passion that inspires and listens, to help one another grow in ourselves, that will inevitably fall apart. He has experienced so much more of the world that only decades of life can teach, and I am still so young, so naive, despite my worldly claims.

He panders to my moods and whimsies, not out of politeness, but because he sees me hiding behind my brash exterior. He isn't afraid to call me out on my ever so slightly spoilt nature, and we are both confident enough to discuss our foibles. It's a little unnerving, only having known him for a little over a month that I am so transparent. I long to find out more about him, but he is still a little wary of me. Again, this was an insightful comment, as I never considered myself to be untrustworthy...

He is my looking glass, helping me to see what it is in me that he so loves. 

D. S.