whenever i see these amazing bed photos i’m always torn between wanting to jump into them with a particular someone and wanting to jump into them solo.
kind of relevant to my life i suppose.
i’m a cuddle whore, but right now i’m also enjoying my space.
there was a time when i had a difficulty sleeping alone. i was so used to his warmth. the sound of his breath. the loving embrace of his lanky arms. the way our feet stretched and played against each other. the way he kicked his whole body around to warm up on cold nights.
we didn’t spend every night together, but most.
for months i struggled to think of anything but his absence as i drifted off to sleep. for months i tried to remember what it was like to stretch out without feeling the cold emptiness of all that extra space. for months i slept curled up trying to fold into myself, clutching my stuffed animals.
a year passed.
i entwined myself in the arms of others. searching for something to make me once again feel whole. i saw glimpses, sure, but mostly their arms lacked magic and my heart didn’t buy the ruse.
i stayed up too late too many nights just to find the solace of a mind quieted from sheer exhaustion. sometimes i recognized the habits and tried to break them. sometimes the days passed and i passed with them like some etherial being not quite a part of my own world.
but slowly, tentatively, the fog began to clear. the edges were sharp again, but didn’t cut. i began to feel comfort instead of fear in the steady beat of my own heart. the strength within. the little shining light that refused to go out.
i still cuddle. i still long for the kind of love i once knew as well as i know myself. but i don’t dread an empty bed now, because i know it’s not empty; i know the fullness in my heart. and as i stretch out my legs and pull the blanket over my shoulder, inhaling the sweet smell of a clean pillowcase, feeling the soft caress of the pillow on my cheek, a gentle smile curls across my lips and i think to myself, “sogni d’oro”