Two years is a fucking long time

On November, 18th of 2011,  I wrote : « Today I took the number of a psychoanalyst. I don’t know if I’ll call her, but at least I have something. » Almost two years later, I still don’t know her voice. Call it procrastination, call it fear, call it whatever you want, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Hell, I don’t know what I would have said to her if I had the courage to speak.

Two years is a fucking long time when you have nothing but fear in your mouth. Believe me, I know.

But today, today has been a good day. Today your fear has been crushed by lips so delicate that for a minute you thought you could fly. And really, you’ve never felt so light and strong at the same time.