Things that keep me up at night

1. Hugs

There are many words to name the act of holding someone: embrace, clutch, cling to, hold on, hold tight, engulf; the english call it cuddles. Depending on the varying pressure exerted onto the other body, some can call a hug suffocating, smothering, and some may call them too hot, or breathtaking, but in a good way, the intoxicating, stirring, thrilling kind of way. To me, hugs are two faced bitches. Why, you might ask? Because they leave me feeling cold on the outside, my skin detaches itself off of my muscles as it's being ripped away from the condescending source of warmth and shelter, reaching, but snapping back when it realises it's attached to me. So it gets upset and takes revenge on me by freezing me to numbness. Your hugs, on the other hand, piss me off with a passion hard to put into words. They make me feel right, sane, safe and electrified, and I might just love you for calming my fucked up brain. But the problem is, hugs are short, too damn short, teeny-weeny moments of bliss and the way your cologne clears my airways all the way to centre of the universe and sticks my skin back. And you rarely give me anything more than just hugs and I can't take it anymore because you have planted inside of me an itch that only you can somehow scratch, and in the middle of the night, when I'm somewhat warm again, it starts to drive me wild because you rarely ever scratch it anymore. And baby, I might just give up, but then I'd hate myself for doing something that I swore I'll never do: give up on my happiness. I need touch, skin to skin, to feel myself and safe, I am pathetically clingy and so damn attached that it's ridiculous, and I would do a million things to feel like that every single day; I just need a hug.