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Our third date we decided to go to the beach. Not just any beach, a road trip beach, a faraway destination that required both a whole weekend committed upfront along with the trust neither of us were secretly crazy ax murderers. We didn't even check the weather but the sun came with us. Upon arrival we quickly left the car and shoes behind to explore the rocks, clambering over their surfaces as if we were scaling mountains. We walked right up to those NO TRESPASSING signs, and boldly a step past just to say we did. She had never seen a starfish before, so we searched until we found not one but three, as if the universe couldn't have made it more clear this was exactly where we were supposed to be right now. We exploited tide pools, dipping fingers and toes into their chilly worlds and watching the creatures scramble to make sense of the falling sky. We took pictures with her phone, one of her, one of me, but not a single one together. When the sun started to dim we raced away from the waves, stumbling upon a recently abandoned campsite. It was as if it had been left just for us to find.As we sat to watch the sunset and her head draped onto my shoulders, I found myself hoping that nobody was watching while desperately wishing someone was there to witness the real life version of whatever this was. The moon traced the edges of her hair into fleeting silver, giving her profile a sparkling outline. I tangled my fingers into hers and I could feel the smile on her lips when we kissed. Even in the moment I found myself already missing the memory. The night around us was unbearably cold, but we were both kept alive by the burning wonder of what was going to happen next.Somewhere in the salt and sand I began to notice that I was getting ahead of myself, making plans and grand designs, planning each part of the universe I wanted to explore with her. I wanted to show her everything, to hear her opinion on anything, to know the first thought that pops into her head in the morning whilst hoping I was the last.With her, things felt fuller. Like the silhouette of her soul was dangerously close to the shape of the hole I have within myself.But this time, I arrived at an empty door, to be greeted by a hollow human. I kept my shoes on, as her eyes were the same color as I remembered but instead of the excitement there was an aching absence. It was as if her skin was on someone else. I tried stories that she would have loved, jokes she would have laughed at but the most I could get out of her was a sad smile. It was as if last time she left my orbit she was gone for good. The axis that we had revealed in before, sparkling conversation boiling out of us with endless topics and not enough time had gone cold. The shine in her eyes was ash. We tried to pregame but quickly gave up to go to the bar. The bar became takeout, and on the walk home I pointed out a converted bus that would have usually been an exciting opportunity to discuss modern freedom and instead became a comment about how her ex and her had almost bought a bus together. I felt the gravity around us increase as another conversation thudded to the ground. In that pale night her dark silhouette had become a shell, and this time when I tried to think if she glowed in the moonlight I could not remember. By the time we got back to her house I had become increasingly aware that the night had been over long before I arrived at her front porch. We wandered to her room with the overt desire to get drunk and hang out but no part of me still believed that would be the case. Yet my stomach found further to sink when immediately she curled into bed and faced the bare wall. I asked if she wanted for me to stay, to cuddle, and she said yes. So here I found myself, just one sad girl holding another sad girl, neither wanting to be there with the other, but both preferring it to being alone.How is it that an empty beach felt full, but a full house felt empty, as everything I poured into her went down the drain. That trip wasn't the first or the last memory but it was the hardest to let go. The nonsense of that adventure, the chaotic abandon that we threw ourselves into it for no reason other than the fact that we were not doing it alone. I hope those pictures are still in your phone. I hope you still smile at the sight of a starfish. Because between you and me there was an us, as secret as our stolen weekend and as fleeting as the tidepools before the waves rose in the morning. via /r/actuallesbians
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I want to kiss her so often, that I am always looking for that moment. Analyzing how these things begin, so I can find that first chapter and open it once more. But when I think back to what started it, I don’t think I think back enough. I think about that night, I try to remember which was the instant I stopped breathing or remembering because I was so busy living. When her lips stopped singing and started kissing me. When I could see in her eyes the “fuck it I can’t not”. Then no more seeing, no more images. Just feeling.But it wasn’t that moment.It was the moment a night before, when stared out the window together and talked about feeling different and she stopped talking to me and started to talking to the universe, and then when she came back she seemed surprised that I was still listening.It was the moment a month ago, when one night I just held her and touched her face softly because she was sleepy and I wasn’t and I just wanted to her feel relaxed. I worried she didn’t like it at first because she held so still.It was the moment a year ago when we skipped work together and ran off to the beach, laughing at her, at me, at us because nothing in the world could touch us we were running so fast.But when we kissed yesterday it was like we were stealing something from tomorrow. Borrowing love from a future in which we were right for each other, allowed to be so happy.Because we both know that isn’t today. It might not be ever.But I will always have that moment. via /r/actuallesbians
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https://youtu.be/ao8_TNjqoqM via /r/virtualreality
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