What a strange time to be reminded that we are all just animals. These last couple of weeks have been hell. Between taking on extra workloads that I agreed to for a short time, as well as others I did not, I barely had the energy to feed myself, let alone be angry with the unfairness of it all. There was a lot of coaxing on my end to get things done. At times, it didn’t even feel like it was me telling myself what to do anymore. It felt like there was a well put-together, more mature, strange version of myself living inside of me. This other me held my hand like a loving guardian, helping me complete one task at a time until each day had come to its blissfully bittersweet end.

I just had to do that for fourteen days, and then I was done.

I feel it was a mercy that I didn’t know how difficult each day would be to endure from the start, because perhaps I would have given up altogether and not known how well I could handle the challenges. What a lie — if there’s one thing I know about myself, is that I’m too stubborn to give up. Whatever I’m doing could be killing me, but I know I won’t give up. If my strength runs out, that’s one thing. If I keel over from exhaustion, that’s another. If I faint from lack of eating to forgetfulness or non-hunger due to stress, well, that’s not giving up, is it? That’s one of my toxic traits, I think. I don’t give up even when I probably should most of the time. Though I’m the first to tell other people that giving up doesn’t mean they failed, it just means they’re prioritizing themselves. Why I can’t apply that same mentality and grace to myself that is so obvious for me to find for others, I don’t know.

But that’s beside the point for now — our topic today is something that was far off my radar for the last couple of weeks. So far off, in fact, that I almost let it breeze right past me without a second glance, convinced that these feelings weren’t surely meant for me right now.

Because when I finally dragged myself to the end of this nightmare, the last thing on my mind was feeling the way you made me feel. The way you subtly reached in and pulled out the animal in me.

Friday marked the end of this trying time, and thus was the first time in days I was able to take in a deep breath and feel it push out the stress and adrenaline from my veins. This was the first time my mind was able to quiet and sink into a peaceful state of not having to worry about the tasks ahead tomorrow. I was still exhausted, but I felt lighter. The sun felt a bit warmer, and I noticed it wasn’t only my spirits that were lifted slightly. Everyone seemed to walk with the same slow, gliding energy of bodies that were too tired for their own good, yet held up with the promise that our troubles were finally coming to a turning point. I walked to my car that day with the knowledge that whatever was to come next week, I didn’t need to do a damn thing about it this weekend except focus on myself.

I knew this weekend would be about rest, and God knows I needed that more than anything. But what hadn’t occurred to me during that time until now was how little I felt your presence near me. You had quieted, or it seemed that way on my end. I no longer felt the comforting warmth of a hand pressed against my thigh, or the shiver that chased the ghost of your fingers as they gently ran down my spine to elicit the kind of reaction that was hard for me to keep to myself; the kind, I imagine, that’s your favorite. At some point, there was a moment when I realized all I wanted was you there to hold me as I was going through this time. But as that thought started to come more frequently, it was then I realized I hadn’t felt you there nearly at all. I couldn’t focus on it for long, but your absence was felt daily.

I figured there was a weak link in our connection — something to be dug out and addressed lest it should cause permanent damage between us. But in some ways, it already felt too late. And I didn’t know what I could do, but I knew I couldn’t do anything for now. What was worse, it felt like it was my fault. It may not have been my fault, but the stress of everything, the exhaustion I felt as soon as I woke up, had surrounded me in a sort of bubble that blocked any sort of receptiveness I had. I was shutting you out without even realizing it. When I did notice, I was in too deep that I knew nothing could be done until the end of the two weeks. I could only hope that when that time came, you were still there waiting for me.

And you were. As soon as that time had come to an end, and the stress had just started receding, you were there to fill in the spaces it left behind. You had popped right back into place by my side, permeating my senses and saturating my mind with your warmth. I hadn’t even tried to reach back out yet; I was trying to take the night to figure out the best way to approach you. Turns out, I didn’t need to because you had already figured out what that moment would be like. Effortlessly, diligently, as if you had nothing else to do in the world except wait for the second, I was ready to experience you again. And in that moment, I felt like I understood exactly how you felt towards me. Not just wondering; not just hoping. Not second-guessing myself into thinking I was reading too much into things. I understood with the clarity of an outsider witnessing two fools who were hopelessly drawn to each other time and time again.

It felt like I was engulfed in the eye of the storm. Standing dead-center, I was in the calm while your feelings and the force of everything you held back from me to give me space spiraled violently around me. From where I was, I was safe — you made sure of that. The storm was not just your passion for me, but a shield to keep everything else out and away from me for a time. To allow me reprieve, you took on the responsibility of protecting me with everything you had. You were encasing me in, allowing me time to rest from the outside world while ensuring my only focus for the time was you. You were in control, and I didn’t know how badly I needed to relinquish my iron grip on things around me until I felt a foreign sensation of complete trust. I trusted you in my body, mind, and spirit to keep me safe and be my strength when I had none. I hope you know how difficult that is for me; how I have never fully just surrendered to someone like that and trusted that they can and will take care of me. I let go and let you pull me into the abyss of your security and warmth. The embrace of your love.

This is when I could feel it — the animal inside coming out.

Very few people ever have and ever will have true access to me. You can be in my life, but you don’t get everything unless you truly deserve me, and I’m stubbornly unwilling to settle for less. Even my past partners haven’t had the pleasure to fully experience all of me, because I knew it wasn’t for them. This gets lonely from time to time, though I know it’s for my better.

But I can feel it inside, the desire and longing to let myself go and submit fully to the love of my life. But I haven’t met anyone yet who has proven themselves worthy of that. I will remain independent, with solid walls built around my deepest needs and desires, until he comes along and shows me consistency and the need through his actions to be my protector and provider. And once he does, whoever that may be, I know I will love him in ways he’s never been loved before. Ways he didn’t know he was starved of until he had my devotion. Ways that leave him helplessly addicted to me.

But for now, it was me addicted to you. All of a sudden, I wanted to submit to you completely. I needed you to lead me, to protect me, to take care of the things that made me weary. I wanted to unload my burden onto you and watch you handle things the way you always do with that effortless grace I love so much. I wanted to trust you completely when you whispered, “Let me take care of you,” and when I sensed your warmth and love wrapped around me, surrounded by the actions you took to make things easier for me, with a determined smile on your face that showed just how much you were loving taking care of me, I wanted to devour you.

Suddenly, as I felt you move around me, protecting, guiding, taking on more than your share of the chores while being genuinely happy to do so, I followed every slight shift of your body. My eyes traced the curve of your neck that turns into your collarbone, and a small voice in my head wanted so badly to straddle you and sink my teeth into the soft, sensitive flesh there. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a lasting mark for a few days. Every cell in my body burned with the desire to feel your skin on mine; the way your hands would roam over my curves as I had one leg on either side of your waist. I needed to feel the way every muscle in you responded to my fingers tracing lightly over them. I needed to memorize the areas that made your composure fall within seconds; I craved pushing you to that edge you couldn’t come back from with my love and devotion. I wanted to make you come undone, to release the animal inside of you that you had set free in me. I needed you to feel everything I was feeling.

And the thoughts didn’t stop there. They were raw, intimate, and everything I fought to keep hidden deep inside most of the time. And usually, I would shy away from them when they start to pop up; I feel more ashamed for the filthy things my mind thought of when I looked at you. But not this time. This time, they felt all-consuming, as if I didn’t address them, they’d turn into their own storm that would ravage everything in its path to get to you. Feeling them this time made me realize how safe I am around you and how completely I’m yours. I saw these feelings from your perspective — the person who loves you, whom hopefully you love — coming at you with such intense desire. What does it feel like? To be loved like that by me, does it drive you as insane as you do me?

The funniest part of it all, while I was struggling to maintain my composure around you in that moment, while you were only trying to take care of me, I never realized until that moment how much it turned me on that you have my back. I’ve never had that before. Not on this level. I never knew what it could do to me, and it made me wonder how often, if at all, you felt the same just watching me do things for you. How many times did you ache to touch me slowly, reverently, just from me cooking dinner for you after a long day at work? How much did you think about not letting me leave when I visited you at the studio late at night with food when you were working overtime? How often did your thoughts wander to the ways you’d wish you could have me, the sounds I’d make for you while pinned under your body, while I helped massage the stress away from your shoulders?

As my thoughts fought for control, over animalistic lust for you and the curiosity of if you ever felt this way too, I felt you looking at me. When I brought my eyes up to yours, I’m sure they were as dark as my mind was because you seemed to read me like a book. I saw the slow way you needed to control your breathing; the way your jaw clenched. You said one word: my name. It was deep, raspy, and a little breathless. You seemed to have more to say, but you didn’t trust yourself, so you approached me confidently and with precision. You gently placed your hand on my arm and kissed my forehead slowly and carefully. Then you pulled away and rested your forehead against mine. The area of my skin that connected with yours burned with need, but I understood the message.

You felt it too, but there were some things you wanted to attend to first. The kiss, the touch, was a promise of what was to come. That you needed me in the way I needed you; that you needed me to need you like that. Unashamed, raw, and primal.

I sat in my feelings that weekend, indulging myself in all of you in every way I craved. You, only too happy to let me, to guide me, unlocked parts of myself I had never known were there before. In a time when I thought we were the most disconnected, you didn’t let the emotional distance change the kind of man you are. You fought for me, cared for me, and stoked the fire deep inside of me that only you could. You pulled out the hunger in me that I never permitted anyone to see before. But you knew it was there; you probably did all along.

And I am oh so lucky to have someone who so willingly lets me sink my teeth into, and who matches that intensity by returning the favor with your firm hands and eager mouth.