His girlfriend is sleeping downstairs, alone on the couch.
Or perhaps not sleeping but having a dark night of the soul.
Just like me on the rug.
His body is still close but his absence is even closer.
„Can this ever turn into something healthy?“, I ask.
He opens his eyes.
„The unhealthy parts are just a cold“, he says.
„Not Covid?“
He smiles.
„Not Covid.“
I burry my nose in his armpit, fusing his salt with mine, yesterday’s sweat with today’s tears, trying to drink in his essence together.
„My door ist always open“, he says.
„But there are limits to ,always’“, I answer.
„There are conditions“, he says.
In this moment I finally understand.
My hunger for being welcomed unconditionally will never be stilled by a conditioned human, and my access to unlimited welcomeness will always be limited.
F*ck the human condition.
And love it into wholeness.
