Thank you…
Thank you for opening up to me. Even if just a little bit.
You are warm.
You want to open up, even though you’re scared, just like everyone else. But your desire to open is stronger than your fear.
When I touch you, I can feel your longing to share… to share yourself.
And that is so precious!
People have forgotten how to open up, how to be close.
You touch someone — their soul, their consciousness, their feelings — and all you find is ice, ice, ice.
Like in the story of Frozen.
Except it’s not magic — it’s fear.
At some point, they got so scared of being open that they decided, “Forget it, never again.”
And that’s it.
Hello, welcome.
And now, all around, you see Snow Queens and Kings.
Marching around, poking at each other with their egos, complaining that sex is boring and love is overrated.
But really, what they call “love” is just passion, mutual attraction, chemistry…
Oh, and this “chemistry” — honestly, it’s laughable.
Do you really think that if you glance at someone and get aroused (what you usually call “chemistry”) — that this is the main, the only thing you need to move closer to each other?
Seriously?
You mean you don’t know that what’s speaking inside you is just your primitive, deeply biological instinct to reproduce with the “right” male or female?
That’s all.
And in 99% of cases, it disappears as soon as nature is “satisfied” — meaning, you perform the necessary movements for reproduction while tricking nature with a latex barrier.
Sure, sometimes it drags on for a month or two — because, after all, we are humans. We have brains.
And somewhere deep inside, we do carry a buried longing for real closeness, even if we’re terrified of it.
We hope.
We hope that maybe, maybe this time, there will be bliss.
But in the end, the bliss usually boils down to a few orgasms, which quickly lose their brightness.
Because arousal fades.
Nature’s work is done.
One body entered another, sperm was released, and that’s all nature demanded.
Why stay longer?
The miracle doesn’t happen.
Bodies that once seemed intoxicating drift apart, looking for new “chemistry,” believing “it just wasn’t my person.”
Or they notice that one body picks its nose, and the other flips out once a month for three days.
Or any other discovery that kills the “chemistry” on which they tried to build their “bliss.”
But you — you are warm.
You are afraid.
But you still want it.
Your heart hasn’t frozen.
It burns.
There is lava flowing through it, longing for love.
It’s just slightly open — hesitating, cautious, because it remembers.
It knows what can happen.
It knows it can open — alive, burning — and then, bam! A thousand icy arrows could pierce it.
But it also knows something else.
It knows how two living, yearning hearts can open to each other and merge into one impossible, boiling river of closeness.
Where they lose themselves — and create something entirely new.
Something that belongs only to them.
A bond that nothing else in the world can replicate — only born from this magic merging.
You know…
I believe.
You are warm.
I want to feel your heat.
I want to touch your heart with my heart.
And lose myself.
And meet you there —
Not the you who lost yourself,
But a you who is a little bit me, too.
And I will be a little bit you.
And I will feel you as myself.
And you will feel me as yourself.
And together, we will create something third — a territory of love where only closeness exists.
I want this very much.