Thinking about love. Thinking about Mirriam Williamson saying she was going to call the Prime Minister of New Zealand up on the phone and say "girlfriend, you are so on". Thinking about all these dreams I've been having. All the people I worry about.

I think I'm in love and it's terrifying. I want other people to be in love with me; that sounds safe. I liked it when I was 17 and 14-year-old-sisters-of-friends-of-mine would have obvious crushes on me. I liked it when Heather Friedman would make really obvious passes at me back in middle school. I liked it when Polina cried in my arms and told me she couldn't imagine a life without me.

I don't like this new feeling of being the one crying.

I'm so ashamed of being in love with people, and maybe it's because when I told Heather I loved her she admittedly refused to believe me and told me I misunderstood the situation. Or maybe it's because, lowkey, I judged those people who were in love with me. Of course Polina can live without me, she managed for years before meeting me. We've been apart for over a year and a half now and she's doing fine without me.

I always felt a bit invalidated by people "being in love" with me. Those 14-year-old-sisters-of-friends-of-mine don't know anything about me. They don't know who I am or what I'm afraid of. They like my silly outfits. They like me like older women on the bus like me. "Oh he's seems nice" because I'm not afraid to not act like I'm angry 24/7 and too cool to smile at old people but would they still like me if they knew I think it would actually be nice if a violent mob killed Jeff Bezos? Would she still like me if she knew I thought she was a racist bastard for moving to Oregon to escape integrated busing?

Am I foolish, like a little sister? Cute but not to be taken seriously?

What do I know about the people I'm in love with? I'm in love with Chloe, sometimes, I hardly know her. She tells me we've hung out a total of seven times in person like she's keeping count on her fingers. I ran into her while going to the library with Polina and it was the most magical experience. I kept hitting on her even though this makes her uncomfortable and actually I don't want anything physical with her I'm just jealous of the fact that apparently everyone and their cousin is worthy of kisses with drunk Chloe but not me for some reason. She tells me "don't worry, there are people who move to a new country to marry someone they've never met and then they go on reality TV shows" like somehow living my life like an MTV mom is reassuring. She lists off her negative traits and one of them is farting and like everyone farts so that hardly feels like a mention-worthy defect, but it was mentioned so there must be something particularly special about her farting. I'm thinking she's like that mule, Marilyn, who lives in Sequoia National park. What if living with her sucks and I actually don't like her at all I'm just a naive 14-year-old girl or that cringy guy in high school who fused his face to the lap of the first girl who didn't find him disgusting? I'm like Vaulters, wallowing in self hatred and diluting myself into believing some girl's gonna fix all my problems.