Too soon? - by Grace Kiconco

You meet someone and it’s ridiculous how fast the connection clicks. Not loud, not dramatic... just this soft, magnetic pull that makes you feel like you’ve known them longer than your memory can stretch. Like your spirit recognizes them before your mind has time to process the introduction. But you can’t show any of that.You can’t lean into the familiarity your body insists is real.Because the truth is simple and annoying: "you don’t know them like that." You can’t just text them every time your thoughts drift their way—even though they drift that way a lot. You can’t reach for your phone the moment something funny, or sweet, or interesting happens because you don’t have that closeness yet. You don’t have the privilege of constant presence because again, "you don't know them like that" And it kills you a little… how natural it feels to want it. They’re the kind of person you wish you met somewhere softer—somewhere like France, in Paris where affection isn’t suspicious, where a quick peck on the cheek is normal, where warmth isn’t seen as a red flag.Where you could greet them with gentle touches and not worry about crossing invisible boundaries.Where your tenderness wouldn’t be misread as intensity.But again, "you don't really know them that well: They’re the kind of person you want to call my love in that casual, warm way—not romantic, not claiming, just… gentle. A pet name for someone who feels comforting. But you can’t say it. Not without risking everything. Because you don’t want to come off weird, or clingy, or like you’re asking for more than friendship when really you’re just following the pull... of your own softness. They’re the kind of person you wish you knew well enough to be effortlessly close with...to casually scratch their beardto loop your arm through theirs while walking,to sit shoulder-to-shoulder without questioning the space you take up. The kind of person you want to be comfortable enough with to take food out of their mouth or even off their plate, laughing as they pretend to protest. The kind of person you’d tease, nudge, touch lightly because their presence feels like somewhere your body has already decided is safe. But you can’t do any of that. Not because you don’t want to—God, you want to—but because you don’t have the foundation yet. You’re standing on the edge of something that feels familiar, but technically it’s all new. And so you hold yourself back. You swallow your instinct, tame your warmth, dim yourself just a little so you don’t scare them off. The strangest of feelings, if you asked me.To feel so drawn to someone and have to pretend you’re not.To feel a connection blooming under your skin while keeping your hands carefully at your sides, to yourself yet they could be twined with theirs' .To want softness with someone you barely know, and to feel guilty for wanting it. It’s like meeting someone your soul has already lived a lifetime with—but your present selves are only on chapter one. And you don’t want to rush it, don’t want to ruin it, don’t want to be the reason something beautiful never gets the chance to grow. So you stay gentle with your longing. Tame all you could be doing and hold yourself backYou stay patient with your want.You hope that one day, maybe one day, you’ll know them well enough to let your instincts breathe. But for now...You stand there, quietly overwhelmed, wishing you could touch a closeness that isn’t your's "yet" and praying that someday, maybe, it will be.

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