"With you, intimacy colours my voice. Even 'hello' sounds like 'come here.'"

--Warsan Shire

(via HappinessRuns...) 

All of this.

"I want to talk about intimacy. I want to talk about desire. I want to talk about fucking. I want to talk about touch.

I want to talk about how Black and Brown bodies are denied these things. I want to talk about how Black and Brown bodies thirst for these things. I want to talk about how Whiteness constructs Black and Brown bodies in opposition to these things.

I want to talk about how Black and Brown bodies are rejected by other Black and Brown bodies. I want to talk about how we can't always find comfort in each other because we're so busy finding comfort in Whiteness.

I want to talk about how Black and Brown bodies tear themselves apart for these things. I want to talk about how Black and Brown bodies struggle for these things. I want to talk about how it's never enough.

I want to talk about intimacy. I want to talk about desire. I want to talk about fucking. I want to talk about touch."

--$Store Glitter Lion

(via come correct)

It's that time of the summer again...

Eeyore mood.

That time when I realize that I spend way more time alone than I'm comfortable with. If my co-worker handles the one person who wanders into the library during our four-hour shift, I don't have to say a word to anyone besides my mom when I call her to say I got home okay and possibly ask for directions on how to cook something. Splitting my awake-time fairly evenly between Princeton and New Brunswick means I don't really have the time to hang out with anyone in either location on a regular basis. Remind me to never work nights again--it's terrible for one's social life. Part of me feels like I should "meet people"...then I begin to wonder how one successfully does that if one doesn't have a seed group to start from. And (rather ironically since I'm a sociologist) social interactions with new people really really intimidate me. But my big empty house in this small anonymous city is starting to feel really lonely. I think this is what I'm most worried about after graduation: the sudden disappearance of a social circle to fall back on. I'm a small intimate circles kind of person; I'm the kind of person that can easily happily devote all of her spare time to one person or a very small group of people. My ideal party has ten friends, a few bottles of alcohol, and some board games rather than a bar/club scene or anything involving a keg. So what do I do in a new place? I miss having people around to just hang out with. I guess that as a person who has shared a bedroom for the majority of her life, then lived in quads Freshman and Sophomore year, and then began spending her every waking moment at Quad Junior year, solitude is something I am neither used to or comfortable with for extended periods of time. 
In somewhat related news, I am craving physical contact sooooo strongly. Y'all know that I'm a very touchy-feely person: in the course of my normal (read: on campus [or previously, in high school]) life, my day is full of small touches in the midst of conversations, hugs and/or arms around shoulders, resting my head on others' shoulders, massages, people playing with my hair, etc. Now, I go days without hugging anyone. I'm the only person who plays with my hair on anything close to a regular basis. I may never get re-used to sleeping alone, but more on that in tomorrow's letter (which will be to my bed(s)). There are certain kinds of intimacy I miss that I can take care of on my own, but Aijuswannasnuggle.

Intimacy

I was young and naive once. Don’t laugh too hard,

we all were. And when I was, I equated intimacy with, well, sex.

Or the clandestine touching and kissing that may or may not

have been leading up to it. The rushed whispering of “Can I”s

and “Let me”s. The relinquishing of clothing.

The offering of oneself piece by piece. 
 

You have taught me that intimacy does not come in pieces.

That it is neither the desire for or the act of nudity, not its touch or taste.

It does not, in fact, even necessitate these things.

It is, perhaps, the feeling of nakedness, of wanting shamelessly

to lay myself bare before you. It is wanting to shout the boldest of “Let me”s,

“Let me give you all of me.” 
 

It is seeing that gift appreciated fully. It is learning the true meaning of the word

acceptance. It can play, like tickle wars in between bouts of kissing,

but that play has purpose--intoxicating, stimulating, your smile is the highest high

It is your tongue in the gap between my two front teeth, your words saying you

love even this hidden part of me. It is not caring whether I’ve shaved.

It is bed head and morning breath after the best sleep I’ve ever had every night with you.

It is wanting to spend every night with you. It is embarrassing stories from

elementary school and the tenderest of teasings. It is both talking freely and

having comfortably quiet time. It is knowing the weight of your head in my lap.

It is honesty. It is never needing to put on a brave face.

It is pure unadulterated fascination at the wonder that is you.

It is “I need us” over “I need you”. It is “Share my life.”
   

I used to believe that love was an impossible dream.

I once thought happiness was an emotion rather than a state of being.

I didn’t know growth could stem from joy.

I was blind to the difference between frenzy and fervor.  

In the past, I mistook physicality for intimacy.