Maybe, at the end of a bad day, all I want to do is lie down and cry. And to push you away without wanting you to go away. I want you to see that now is the moment that I need you most, without having to tell you. I want to sob in the crevices of your arms and make you my safehouse. I want you to see that I’m beyond repair right now and that I’m not okay. That It’s difficult being okay, all the freaking time. I just want you to show up, to tell me that things are going to work out. That this is temporary. That this will go away. That I’m just tired. I am so so tired. I want you to know that I need you right now, as a friend. As more than a friend. As a confidante, that you understand, without me having to verbalize. And that I could talk to you in the wrinkles of your shirt, in the specific smell that is you. I want to be in the comfort of your proximity, and of being wanted, and of being loved. And I just want to have my pumpkin soup.