Fantasizing about boys felt like a healing paper cut: uncomfortable, but manageable.
While imagining a future with a man I mistook the relief of companionship for romance, and the anxiety for chemistry.
When I pictured him saying ‘you’re mine’, it felt like being trapped, too possessive, I did not want my heart stolen but at least being kept in a cage would keep me safe.
Dreaming about kissing boys seemed acquiescent, as long as my eyes were glued shut the entire time. This was love, right?
When I saw her for the first time I was mesmerized and I have never wanted to give up custody of my own heart more;
She felt like home, like freedom, and all the discomfort I had assumed was natural melted, just like I did whenever she touched me.
Her laughter reminded me why the earth revolved around the sun and when we kissed it felt like I had found the world’s greatest treasure without even searching for it.
When I imagine a lifetime with her it doesn’t feel cumbersome anymore and I realize it was meant to feel this way all along.