I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so i would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, i hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.
She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful, but she didn’t have quite enough going for her to become what she imagined herself to be.
give me 10 reasons why i shouldn’t just turn into a slug right now
i literally can’t think of any and its pissin me off
Never being able to eat salt again seems pretty shitty.
How I want to spend my time/days:
20% at work
20% working out/working on my health/well-being
25% working on my mental health/art
How I actually spend my time/days:
30% at work
My favorite kind of hand-holding is when youre sitting, or laying, or whatever. And it works out the way that your hands are both facing the same way and theirs goes around the outside of yours and over the inside. so that all you really get in the palm of your hand is their fingers above the knuckle.
It’s such a tighter hold than regular “walking next to each other” hand holding. Idk. I feel more that way than the other way.
I actually hate that the person I talk to most is my ex boyfriend. Ugh.
Lots of personal posts tonight.
I’m feeling things I’ve ignored for a long time I guess. I’m tired, so they’re just being felt I suppose.
I want to go downtown with someone and walk around doing nothing and window shopping and hold their hand and wear enough clothes to be warm and content and then I want to go down by the Sound and sit on the rocks and smell the salt and sit in their lap and be held.
I’d like to be loved, the right way, for once.