Chapter 1 | Entry Six

"The hardest part of becoming whole is realizing how much space you take up, and wondering if anyone will ever want to stand that close."

Moon, I'm almost full tonight.

Of light and longing and this aching aliveness that has nowhere to go.

I made dinner. Just for myself. Lit a candle. Put on music that made my hips sway while I chopped vegetables. I felt beautiful in my own kitchen, in my body, in the simple ritual of feeding myself.

And then I sat down at the table, alone, and the fullness turned into... vastness.

This awareness that I am so much now.

So awake. So alive. So unafraid of my own intensity.

And I don't know if anyone will ever be able to hold it.

I don't mean hold it for me.

But hold it with me. Stand close enough to feel the heat without stepping back. Let my light illuminate them instead of blinding them.

I want to be loved like this.

Not in spite of how much I feel, but because of it.

Not tolerated. Not managed. Not asked to dim so someone else can feel comfortable.

I want someone who leans in when I'm passionately burning. Who gets curious when I'm deep in my emotions instead of waiting for me to be reasonable again.

Someone who sees all this feminine fire and thinks yes, more.

Is that even possible?

Or did he ruin me for anyone else, not because I still want him, but because he showed me what it feels like to be fully met, and now I can't unsee it?

I'm afraid.

Afraid that I'll spend the rest of my life this alive, this full, this open... and alone.

Afraid that the price of staying awake is never finding someone who can stay awake with me.

But I also know I can't go back.

I can't make myself smaller again. I can't pretend I don't feel this much. I can't dim my light to make someone else comfortable in their darkness.

So I'm here. At this table. Alone with my fullness.

And I'm asking you, is there someone out there who won't be afraid of me?

Someone who will see how much space I take up and think thank god, I've been looking for someone vast enough to get lost in?

I'm not desperate. I'm not incomplete without it.

But I am... hopeful.

Tenderly, carefully, vulnerably hopeful.

That love can look like two people who refuse to make themselves smaller, standing close enough to feel each other's heat.

That somewhere, someone is learning to hold their own vastness too.

And maybe, one day, we'll recognize each other.

—Still open