what truly freed me – or at least eased the guilt I had been carrying all along – was coming to understand that desire is not one thing. it is not necessarily sexual. and even when it is, it just doesn't have to mean acting on it. I have the right to feel it, and to feel it only. to acknowledge that it lives in me. hear me out: most of the time, it hardly matters who it turns towards. it goes that far. I just see it as a sign that I am alive. the spark of the divine in me, if you like. so I tell you: I won't carry this guilt. I'm done carrying it. mind you, this isn't about breaking promises or deceiving anyone; it's about recognising that desire in itself is neither moral nor immoral. it simply is. a life force, moving through me whether I act on it or not. there is fear, perhaps, yes. fear of where this pull might lead. fear of somehow unsettling the careful architecture of my days, and of yours. but guilt? no. I am learning to let these feelings be. to look at them without judging. to say: this is a part of me that matters. something that sets me in motion towards something else. whether or not I follow that path is another question.
the nineteenth of october, two thousand and twenty-five
