Today I was dragged (literally almost) out of bed by the incessant buzzing of my siblings at the extremely unearthly hour of 8 freaking a.m.. We went to the beach for breakfast (yes how idyllic. Heh.). Reached home at about 11am and I promptly fell asleep again.

I woke up at 1pm with a horrible need for a hug.
I desperately needed someone to hold me close and sniff my hair and kiss me.
I kept trying to go back to sleep.
To pretend like maybe I can kill that need when I next wake up.

Sigh.

I think I needed to feel loved in that special way.
Horribly selfish and disgustingly dependent, yes.

It's depressing how I think I'll never be able to feel that same tenderness, or taste the same urgency of a love so powerful; that maybe no one will hug me like he wants to mold us together and never let me go. It's depressing I think that way and depressing what I think. Sucks.

And yet, didn't I leave because it all got too claustrophobic? Because it all felt like it was hurtling into an abyss of all-consuming... combustion?


I shall make more new friends.

And I shall look forward to Wala-Wala. [Cue DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Yay. :D