Very few sex scenes this season, but way more overwhelming emotionally. At this chaotic stage in life, I vehemently relate to this.
As a self-identified feminist, you don't know how to dress, you care a lot about how your outfit projects your feminity, you're still physically attracted to misogynist guys; you know exactly how you sister would react to her new horrendous hairstyle, what her shitty alcoholic husband would utter out from his disgusting mouth, but you never look straight into yourself.
You could never deal with your own feelings. You avoid it, you hide it underneath, until someone came, and found your version of self. He found that, and kept asking, what's happening here, tell me.
This sounds like Van Gogh's letter to his brother. It's just he happens to be hot, and married to god.
My heart quivers when I realized that they are never going to be together, despite the manifested mutual love.
Life is also too short to bury such feeling, despite of its absurdity. In fact life is too short to conceal any feelings.
