The space between

Vulnerability.

I think I might be addicted to it. At least that’s my best explanation for once again being here. In the space between sharing vulnerability and it being received. Ideally with a big, fat cuddle.

As mad as this part drives me. As many times as I check my emails hoping for a reply, as many theories that my head builds on what the other person is thinking, I just can’t stop visiting this place.

It’s as if there’s this huge need for expression of my inner self, of giving a voice to the often unexplainable desires of my heart, without the usual filters that I used to insert to maintain my dignity, maintain the upper hand in a relationship, to keep me from going against others’ expectations, wishes even.

The filters have left. Now I over-share. With passion and enthusiasm and sometimes a little mini dose of self deprecation. I just can’t stop. The need within me is far too strong to.

So here I am again in the space between. The space of lip biting, fast heart beats and many mind theories.

Why? I ask myself. Why is it worth it?

It’s worth it because I get to see myself through it. I get to give voice to the bits deep inside, the shy bits, the cute bits, the bits with no sense of shame. The dark bits that are full of a need for love.

I get to see them and share them, make them real, bring them out to play, let them cause a little bit of mayhem, some uncertainty, a dose of what if.

At times like these I realise how much I love the heart-wrenching space between.

The space where all possibility is completely real, as scary as that is.

The space where I can dream, imagine, weave.

The space where I become.