An Unsent ADHD Love Letter to Fluid Love & Collision

I didn’t expect her to be the one
who’d live in the bridge of my memory
the part of the story you always return to,
even after the song’s ended.

The Kind of Hug You Don’t Recover From

Have you ever been hugged like you’ve already been loved?
Like your body knew something before your brain had words for it?

Some people you meet online.
Some people you meet in your nervous system.
She was both.

We were ten years apart.
She was newer to the industry.
I was her coach. Her mentor.
But from the moment she reached out
I felt her.

She sent a voice note, soft but certain:

“I just want to do whatever I can to help you. I really, really loved what you built.”

And the way she said it
not transactional, not performative
it soaked into me.
She wanted to amplify my voice like it was part of her own.

I was wired to notice that.
To feel it in my chest cause thats how I show up for others.
And I felt it deeply.

The Selfie That Still Makes Me Heart Smile

We met three years later.
She screamed.
Ran.
Jumped into my arms like she’d been waiting for years.

We spun.
We smiled.
We took a selfie 30 seconds later,
and that photo still makes my whole body smile looking at it today.

Because it wasn’t posed.
It was post-orgasm for the soul.

She met my girlfriend.
I met her boyfriend.
We all hung out like it was always meant to be.

She didn’t try to fit in.
And I didn’t need to ask her to.
She already belonged.

The Year We Didn’t Need to Undress to Feel It All

Over the next year, we’d reconnect again and again.
Parties. Clubs. Karaoke.
Laughter.
Electricity.
Everything, but never needing more.

We got vulnerable.
We connected deeply.
Cause Thats the Authenticity
we both lived in public and private.

We talked about fantasies.
About past sexual experiences.
About emotional chaos.
We didn’t just connect.
We mirrored—across time, age, and experience.

She knew her self better than I knew anyone could.
She was in touch with her sexuality and fluid love in a way I had yet to own.
She made a life-altering decision that I don’t believe I would have been strong enough to make.
And I was fucking proud and impressed.

Not because it reflected well on me.
But because her happiness and success turned me on
in the most Daddy-coded way possible.

She didn’t call me that.
But I felt it in how she looked at me.
How she listened.
How she wanted my happiness as much as I wanted hers.

We Held What Others Would’ve Fucked and Fumbled

We’ve never been intimate.
But we’ve held each other through the kinds of confessions
most lovers never even earn.

Breakups.
Family emergencies.
Late-night voice notes.
Snapchat spirals.
Marco Polo silliness.

We don’t talk every day.
But we don’t need to.

Because some connections don’t fade.
They just hum quietly until they’re needed again.

This Is for Her (If She Ever Finds It)

And if you’re reading this
Before I let you in about me doing this project
just know:

You’re one of the only people I could ever imagine showing this to.
Because you were part of it before it existed.
Because I want to show up in my whole self like you always ahve.
Because you made me feel seen.
Because you still do.

Thank you.
For being the kind of person who smiles with her whole body.
Who hugs like she means it.
Who lives with her heart exposed and never once apologizes for it.

Thank you for holding my nervous system when it didn’t know how to speak.

Because it is possible
to make my cock twitch and my heart ache at the same time.
Even if you’ve only ever touched one of them.

—Confessor

If you’re aching right now for a connection that never quite crossed the line
You’re not broken for remembering it.
You’re reverent.
And you’re not alone.

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Write your own unsent love letter.
The one you never shared.
The one you still remember.
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