Today I painted A and R’s new place. It’s a new place. 新家. 小窝. Regardless of what you call it, it’s a home only because someone made it out to be one. I thought of how close we were to making our own version of a 家, and I tried to push it out of my head almost as quickly as it entered. But it stuck and wouldn’t fly away.
On the way to dinner, the three of us walked through a dark alley and A reached out for R’s hand immediately and walked closer. Walking from the back, I thought, how goddamn lucky is it for two people who understand each other to be together? It was such a moment, I really couldn’t help but smile. Despite all the prickly growing and boundary pushing that hurts sometimes, it counts for something in the end. I was so sure that I would be jealous of seeing something I do not have, but I surprise myself sometimes. At the end of the day, there are some people whom I love so much that as long as they’re happy, it’s hard for me not to be happy too.
But there’s my version of love where I love far too much and it transforms into an obsessive, psychotic version of a fucked up feeling - possibly bordering on hate - that does not make any sense to me anymore. I have it reserved for some people and I think that’s holding me back from building up my own version of a 家.