The Time of a Sentence

We meet people.

At times for the length of a sentence. Others cross our path for longer.

Although the metric of time is not the factor of impact.

A singular smile can initiate a foundation for a significant construction in our lives.

In Hong Kong, I shared a beautiful moment in my hostel.

In a dormitory of four, I had to my left a profound snorer.

The sound kept all other three of us awake.

We laughed, and decided to chat instead.

The day before, I couldn’t tell you their names.

But here we were, in the late hours of night,

laughing, talking about our lives,

and building a familiar space for ourselves.

I felt like I was with a new pair of siblings.

One night, the guy on the top bunk of our bed and I started chatting.

Topics ranged from families to narratives we are trying to change for ourselves.

Mine is redefining my relationship with the sense of touch.

One I’ve built to associate with an undertone of pain.

I have a misconception that people couldn’t truly see me and hold me with love.

But rather that their actions would be dictated by lust.

This has built a fear and a barrier on my end,

causing me to be avoidant of physical affection,

even in very minimal ways, such as holding hands.

I am meditating, and feeling this avoidant coping mechanism.

Allowing my body to truly see that it does not serve me.

I am reclaiming my right to set my own boundaries with my body,

without guilt of external deception.

I am ready to rediscover simple physical touch,

instead of living in the illusion that removing it from my life protects me.

The belief that I do not need a hug

has only kept me distant from something deeply human.

Knowing that this is something I am changing

feels heartwarming.

It feels incredible.

There is so much power in holding space

for change,

for growth,

for softness to return.