Sketches of belonging.
It’s basic physics: when you hold someone you love, your atoms are actually repelling each other. They are not connecting. When we kiss, the same thing happens. Otherwise, a simple kiss would start a nuclear explosion. When we make love, when we’re the most vulnerable, when we’re the closest we can be to each other, we are actually pushing each other away. We need to — to survive. Simple physics.

And it’s a basic human affliction: hate doesn’t break you — love does that. It took me years and years to finally figure out that some people I was really, trully mad at, people who were kind of close, but always seemed out of reach, people who claimed to love me, but always stayed distant and cold, were the people I really trully cared about. People that I loved. And love somehow turned to anger. To something cold, bitter. It took me years to get rid of that feeling. To be able to breathe.
So, it all boils to a basic alchemy: love is the thing that breaks you. Your own love.
Maybe it’s just a chemistry thing: some atoms don’t mix with other atoms. They exist alone, they can be in company of others, but they never really mix. You can’t connect with them. Not really.
Not without damaging them. Not without breaking them. Again.
