u/DifferentDingo5492

I don’t think I could ever quite articulate, or rather find a form of expression that could describe what I feel about him. But, if I were to describe what his presence felt like, it would be something of the sort of a crimson rosella’s morning song. It reminds me of waking up at my grandparents’ house on Christmas morning as a little girl. A nostalgic and happy memory I hold dearly in my heart.

The chirping of birds, from an evolutionary perspective, signals safety in forests and bushlands, as it meant the environment was free of predators and harm's way. An ancestral instinct for tranquillity and safety, the presence of birds chattering is a natural source of stress relief, and psychologically, lowers stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline, activating the parasympathetic nervous system to promote relaxation.

From the moment I see him, I notice a shift in my body, I feel the lightness in my heart, softness in my gaze, and a gentle sway in my limbs as if I were being rocked like a baby, or perhaps, reminiscing the steps in a slow waltz. In a way, we were dancing. Attuned. Not merely by mirroring but rather a dynamic alignment with each other’s inner world, entirely unspoken, but heard, understood, and deeply seen. What a beautifully terrifying thing it is to be attuned to another person’s feelings and expression, in an almost instinctual way that you know how to delicately and directly soothe them. How I pray I never hear silence and fear caution in his presence. How I hope to always hear the bird song in his smile and gaze.

I was having quite a stressful day at work today. My manager put her hand on my shoulder and said, 'Let's make you a tea'. I watched as she took each step slowly and carefully; for a task so ordinary, I was in awe about the process she so slowly cultivated into an extraordinary cup of tea. It has been evident to me that tea is a simple way of bringing people together, in more ways than we may care to understand. It is very well that tea is integrated and intertwined in many ceremonial practices and family traditions around the world. Tea reminds you of the warmth you are yet to experience, and the warmth you may have forgotten to acknowledge. Not only from the boiled liquid inside, but also to whom it is being made by and for. I hadn't realised I'd been making tea wrong all my life. I would rush the process as a way to sit down and drink it faster, surrendering its ability to come to fruition, into a deep and rich flavour that would enrich the experience and enhance my palette. Only to prepare something just as warm but lacking in strength and depth. I may have missed the entire point. I never let the tea bag sit for longer than ten seconds, nor did I take the time to stir the sugar in separately from the milk. I never realised such a mundane task could be made better by simply taking the time to create. I'd been rushing the process all my life, only to come to the realisation that the making of a good tea was in itself part of the pleasure all along. Although, like most things, this wasn't just about tea.

Tea is almost an excuse to enjoy someone's warmth without exposing one’s vulnerability. I find it an utmost gesture to invite someone for company without the pressure; if someone wants to spend time with you, they’ll most likely take you up on the offer; otherwise, they may decline, in which case I know to leave them be on that particular occasion. It’s a polite way to identify connection or support, without pressuring someone to feel they have to spend time with you to be polite. Perhaps it's my way of reframing the question to avoid myself from being vulnerable, or perhaps, my way of trying to make someone comfortable and to weed out what they truly want without directly asking.

I’ve recently concluded that I use overworking as a distraction to process or face any big emotion that I may experience. I’ve been doing this for years. Like that line from Khe Sanh, ‘I’m in a hurry, and I’m going nowhere’. I’ve been running. When I first met him, I was sprinting. As the years went on, I started to slow down a little; I was jogging, then next a brisk walk. It was clear to me at the end of last year that I wanted to find a way to stop walking and to be still, with him. I quit my second job in an attempt to closen our relationship, only to find that I haven’t the faintest idea of how to express how I really feel. Expression isn’t translation, it’s approximation. Trying to explain something and exclaiming that you don’t know how to explain it is actually a very accurate expression of your experience. In saying that, I don’t know how I could ever express in words what this man means to me. In some ways, I think I don’t fully understand what he means to me, myself, only that it is bigger than me. Though it is clear to me that the body expresses what the mouth does not. Lately, I’ve been really giddy around him. I started to get nervous, but not in a negative way. As I find a way to be more relaxed and slow, I find myself wanting to spend that time with him, although I’ve lost my ability to talk or make conversation completely. I’m losing connection because of my lack of, but it’s not what it seems from his end. I just have a really hard time expressing anything. I express my love and endearment in ways through acts of service and gift giving. I’ve never actually learnt to show or express it in another way. And despite once accepting this flaw about myself and accepting it would be enough, I come to realise that it’s not really about me. That he deserves to hear the words spun into a beautiful symphony that resonates with every cell inside his body. If I could ever offer a romantic gesture, it would be this. It would be to look further inside myself and to seek help in learning how to speak his language so he can understand what I’m so desperately trying to articulate.

I downloaded Reddit yesterday as a way to express feelings to a community anonymously and get feedback that may help me to one day express myself fluently.