This one's not a bumblebee.
For the full experience, I recommend listening to 'I Really Want to Stay at Your House' by Rosa Walton and Haley Coggins as you read this. The song captures the bittersweet yearning and vulnerability I felt during this chapter of my journey. Its lyrics and tone resonate with the story’s emotional core, giving you a glimpse into what I was experiencing. (And for those of you who've watched Cyber Punk: Edge Runners you'll understand)
The Bumblebee and Me
Mere days after our photography outing, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Every notification—whether a text, DM, or Snap—felt like a lifeline, but the waiting in between was unbearable. I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my arms, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
I needed a distraction, a way to escape my own thoughts. It was an uncommonly warm fall, and the leaves had just started to change. The horizon was a patchwork of rich, warm colors. Grabbing my camera, I decided to do what I had done so many times before: cope by capturing the world around me.
I started with the trees outside, their golden leaves illuminated by the autumn sun. But then, something else caught my eye—vibrant purple flowers swaying in the breeze, alive with the hum of tiny honeybees. I ran inside to grab my macro lens, eager to get closer.
For a moment, she left my mind entirely. I was calm, peaceful. The flurry of bees moved back and forth, their rhythm steady and purposeful. But one stood out to me: a lone bumblebee, larger than the others, moving differently, almost as if it were trying to avoid my camera.
This one is a bumblebee.
A Pause in Time
As I focused on that single bee, my thoughts began to wander. Why was this bee alone? It wasn’t really alone, I knew that—bumblebees are hive creatures. But I couldn’t help projecting my own emotions onto it.
I felt like that bee, hiding from the spotlight, trying to carve my own path. But more than that, I felt isolated. I wasn’t truly alone—I had amazing friends by my side—but they weren’t what I longed for. I craved intimacy, a connection deeper than friendship. The brief relationship I had in late 2023 was a taste of what I wanted, but that spark hadn’t carried over to this one.
That bumblebee became a metaphor. In that quiet moment, I realized that even though I didn’t have the relationship I yearned for, I had gained something just as valuable—a friendship that was strong, unconditional, and supportive. My heart ached, and it still does, but I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that this connection, though different from what I hoped for, was something worth cherishing.
I snapped a photo of the bumblebee, finally catching it in a perfect moment of stillness.
A Lesson in Letting Go
Shortly after, I received a Snap from her. My heart leapt like it always did, but something had changed. This time, I paused and remembered the realization I had just come to. She told me she admired the fact that, instead of doing anything reckless or destructive, I spent my time photographing bees. She said that’s what made us such good friends—and for the first time, I truly agreed.
I still yearned for her, but I started to understand the importance of creating some distance in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, there would be someone else someday.
As the sun set that evening, casting a golden glow over the horizon, I finished taking photos. The sunset felt symbolic—a gentle closing of a chapter in our relationship, even as our friendship continued to thrive.
Threads Yet to Be Woven
Even now, I can’t say I’ve fully let go. I still want her to be mine. But I’ve come to appreciate what we do have, and I’ve learned to channel my feelings into something meaningful—photography. Like that bumblebee, I’ll keep moving forward, finding moments of beauty even when life doesn’t unfold the way I hoped.
The story isn’t over, though. The thread is still being woven, and I’m curious to see where it leads.