He loves me now, but I wonder if he would have loved me back then, too. I guess it’s impossible to say, and I don’t like living in the land of theoreticals, but after spending a breezy morning combing through some of the earliest Fuck Feast writings, I can’t help but wonder. I guess have nothing better to do but think about the person I used to be and fantasize about what life would have been if I had ever met the person he used to be. For some reason it’s better than thinking about the people we are right now – there’s a lot more romance in the mystery of my former self than in the reality of the person that I am now and will always be from this point forward. I’ve reached that point where I get to steep myself in nostalgia about my youth, and that, combined with a distaste for experiencing the reality of the present, is why I’m thinking about these types of things right now. Or, what I’d really like to know is: would I have been beautiful to him then? Although, that’s not what I’d like to know, either. What I really, really want to know is: will I be beautiful to him in the future, when all the things that brought us together start to fade, and, yet again, I become a different person in a different form with a different face and different feelings. There’s no guarantee for the future, or that any of this will make sense weeks, months, years from now. So I sink my claws into my best memories of myself and use it as evidence that the future holds something wonderful, too. I’m trying to practice a better way to find hope in what is yet to come, because this habit of fear is becoming self fulfilling. It has always been so easy for me to see myself as succeeding beyond what the world has told me I deserve, but for some reason it is difficult to me see how all of this turns out. Probably because I care too much about the outcome to risk setting myself up for the heart break of disappointment. I could withstand a lifetime doing nothing more than what I’m doing right now, but the idea of life without him is more than I can bear to stomach. So I throw myself into what we have now, close my eyes, and hope that he can hear me wanting the entire world for us without saying a word. I never want to be nostalgic for him, I want to always have this moment we are in right now be the best version of us.