subject line: flight risk.


vienna, austria

You check in with me about it at least once a week, asking me how I feel and if we’re okay. I always say yes and, once you call me, I always am. I feel strong and empancipated that we said sex is something we also could share with others, given the circumstance there are miles and miles between us and we both still need time before we feel like being a couple. It’s just sex after all. And it helps me. I’ve always been known to be a flight risk once somebody shows interest in me.

You say I’m the one. And the girl knows it. But I’m jealous still. Or rather envious. She’s there.

She is your friend and get’s to have sex with you. And me, I am your friend, too. Probably even a closer friend than her, but we’re so far apart, that most of our memories are virtual. We skype almost every day and write in the hours between the calls. We both feel like we could be a great couple once we’re in the same country. But often times it feels like watching a movie about someone else. It’s all happening on a screen. It’s surreal. All the while she gets to spend time with you. She get’s to do it now. See how the sun reflects in your hair and smell the spring flowers you’re smelling, too.

I imagine her giving you kisses for your birthday and drinking a toast to you celebrating your successes. This is why today, I get the feeling I am naive and not a strong emancipated woman. Relationships are based on experiences you share. And I’m not sure if ours are enough. So I wonder, should I make the decision for you? Might she be the better choice for you? Or is that just me, fleeing the scene, afraid I gave you enough of me to hurt me eventually?