The Beginning of the Rest of My Time

It feels like the world has color again.

For the first time in a long time, I feel awake. Not just functioning, not just existing, but alive. The kind of alive that comes when someone’s presence quiets every restless part of you.

When we’re together, everything feels still. The noise in my head fades, and what’s left is warmth. Just holding them in my arms feels right. Familiar, but new in the best way. It’s not the rush of something fleeting. It’s peace.

Before this, I was stuck in repetition. Work. Home. Sleep. Repeat. I spent my days moving through the same cycle, trying to fill the quiet with things that never lasted. No direction, no spark. But now, I feel drive again. I want to build a life with intention. I want structure, stability, safety; for both of us.

They make me feel grounded. Their openness, their softness, their willingness to be vulnerable... it all makes me want to protect what we have. Our connection formed quickly, but it never felt forced. It felt natural, like something that was always meant to find its way back.

I’ve changed since they came into my life. There’s an energy in me that wasn’t there before. I’m ready to move forward, ready to fight through whatever comes next. I don’t need grand moments to feel content. I just want the simple ones. More late nights. More laughter. More time spent side by side, not needing to be anywhere else.

If I could talk to the version of me from a few months ago, I’d tell him that the ache won’t last forever. That the feeling he’s chasing, the one he thought he lost, is on its way. He just has to keep moving, even when he doesn’t see it coming.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. I still feel the shadow of what came before. The memory of loss still echoes in quiet moments. But when I’m with them, that fear disappears. I can breathe again. It feels like breaking the surface after being underwater for too long.

If I had to describe them in one word, it would be beautiful. Maybe that word has lost meaning for some, but not for me. They told me no one had ever called them that before. I still can’t understand how. It’s the only thing I see when I look at them; beautiful in every way that matters.

This isn’t some perfect story. It’s real. It’s fragile. It’s alive. And I don’t want to take any of it for granted.

Because this, right here, feels like the beginning of the rest of my time.

Published 12:32 11/10/2025