#rambly little post cause I'm high and sappy over my love

[fumblingfawn]

thinking of how who I am and my identity has evolved over the years. like planting a seed to watch a flower grow. only the flower of the seed I planted died, and grew another in its place.

forming an identity out of protection only to realise it was not fitting under my skin. ignoring the way it burned until I couldn't. enough to say it's okay if you weren't right the first, second, third, fourth (etc) time.

existence was a soup I was drowning in until I remembered how to swim. realising I am a lesbian was my rememberance of how to swim. melting into the realisation I am a high femme lesbian meant realising I am better at swimming than I ever believed I could be.

and for that, I owe my butch. I owe him an awful fucking lot. he is a breath of fresh air that fills my lungs to capacity and beyond. they are a miracle unto themselves. there are not enough words through language alone to express how truly I adore them. the more time passes, the more I realise what we have is divine, it's fate written by hand.

being able to reflect on how I've changed over time. remembering versions of myself that I hold within me, in a tight hug. the safety I dreamt of as a child, the unapologetic weirdness I craved as a teen and the understanding I became almost desperate for in my adulthood was all found within my butch.

it is sensational to realise the qualities of myself I always tried to be consistent in and proud of were written into the identity that feels like home to me.

butchfemme love (romantic, platonic or otherwise) is sacred. it begs you to look in the mirror, and dares you to even utter that you aren't enough. and it knows you won't. because you know that you are more than enough exactly as you are.