I feel like such a weakling. I am never going to be able to come out all the way. I am so proud of having figured out who I am, and it is such an affirming, positive, exciting part of who I am, and yet, I’m unable to celebrate it under most circumstances. And I go as far as flirting with people, and pretending to have an interest, just to mask this. I think I may even have gone as far as to encourage the overtures made towards me, had there been such an opportunity tonight, just to keep up appearances. Can you imagine sleeping with someone in whom you have no interest, to make people think well of you? It seems absurd! My love, I feel so isolated. And it’s not just because you aren’t here. I get why you can’t respond to my emails. I get the difficulty of this situation. But that doesn’t make me like it any more. I want to be able to fall into your arms. I am so in love with you. I want you all the way in my life. I want a life with you. I’d even understand if it had to remain somewhat closeted. I just wish I could tell you, without fear, how much I love you, how I want to wake up every morning with you beside me, how I want to share my days with you, and my nights with you, and those moments of intense pleasure connected with knowing you’re doing the right work, and you’re in a beautiful place, and satisfied with life in general. I want to be able to call you my partner, and be so proud when someone compliments you, and feel like I am the envy of all those admiring glances. I want to kiss that beauty-spot on your collar bone that peeps out from beneath certain dresses. I want to touch the skin at the curve of your waist. I want to find your beautiful blond hair on my pillow and in my clothing, and I want to see you smile when I’m near. I want to explore bits of you no one has ever thought of loving before. I want to massage the skin on the arches of your feet. I want to really see what the back of your knees look like, and run my fingers over your calves when you haven’t shaven you legs. I want to see you with make-up on, and naked faced, first thing in the morning. I want the scent of you to linger on my clothes. I want to smell you hair. I want to take your ear rings off, and nibble the lobes of your ears. I want to kiss the nape of your neck. I want to know whether you too have dimples on your lower back, and how your spine curves. I want to figure out for good whether you wear mascara. I want to see your eye-colour when you’re laughing uproariously, and when you’re crying, when you’re passionate about something, and when you are perfectly content. I want to see your eyes burn for me. I want to see your face, the curve of your mouth, and the motion of your body in the throes of passion. I want to take you there. I want to tell you I love you. I want to fuse my mouth with yours, and feel like we’ll never part. I want to kiss you like I have my whole life to do it in. I want to kiss you like there’s no tomorrow. I want to kiss the palm of your hand, and the tip of every finger. I want you.