moments of clari/ty/fication

I have been hanging out with Beard again. This time we are platonic. As we watched a movie last night, I longed to rest my head on his shoulder but I felt it would send the wrong message. I like him, but not how I like Pants. I still think he is ideal for me, but since I got that letter from ex-otter, I just don't feel the need to be with anyone.
That's how I got to see Pants again.
That's how I stopped flirting.
I don't want to be with anyone. I want to be alone. I like to see Pants. I like the intimacy we share in person. I love him, I do, but it's a slow burn. It simmers. I am not an inferno like before; I am tempered and patient. I think. I could be.
I like Beard and I want him to be my friend. I am feeling less and less like I need acknowledgment through sex. I am feeling less and less like I need to be attractive to feel good about myself. I hope this lasts. I'm sure I will have some back-sliding. But right now I am relatively content.
I told my therapist that I feel lost when I don't have someone to like. I don't know where to focus my energy. I have defined myself through my relationships. I have never wanted to do that, and yet I have. The thing about being close to Pants is that his main hobbies involve pushing himself very hard when riding his bicycle, and reading. These are two things I'd like to do anyway. And I find myself looking to him for inspiration. I think this is good, as long as I can keep myself from getting too caught up. As long as I am aware. Can I do that? Can I keep myself sane, and safe, and embrace new-found patience?

This isn't a miracle. This isn't a cure. It's a realization. I want peace. I am tired of turmoil. I want to be more than who I am right now. I want to be able to look back and be proud of myself.

I laid down in the shower to soften my skin. I kept my mouth above water. I peeled the hardness from my fingers. I didn't want to die. I was barely tempted.