in my feelings 🎍 sunni

→ 👀 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

👀 190313 - 190317 👀

I think I read too many books.

Books where a girl and a boy find themselves hopelessly in Loe with each other. It makes me want things, the things that made-up characters in a book experience.

I want a boyfriend, but not simply for the sake of having a boyfriend. I want to be loved in ways that friends and family can't love me.

I want to hold his hand, to be hugged by him, to feel his heartbeat thumping at my ear.

I want to fluff his hair while he pulls his jumper over my head. I want him to tell me he loves seeing me wear his clothes, all the while I wave my sweater-paws around and he holds me hips.

I want him to get jealous when he sees me near other guys, for him to grab me by the wrist and take me somewhere private, to nuzzle his nose into my neck and say that he loves me.

I want him to ask me to stay by his side, so I can giggle and nod and say 'of course'.

I want to jump on him and wrap my limbs around his body like a koala, for him to stumble and for us to fall on the couch.

I want him to tuck my hair behind my ear and hold me by the waist, to press his lips to my forehead, to smile at me with heart-eyes.

I want him to come up behind me while I (attempt to) cook us dinner, to melt his chest to my back and breathe in my scent.

I want him to kiss me on the lips, to tell me I'm good at it even though I probably won't be.

I want him to tell me I'm beautiful, to hold my tired, bare body and whisper sweet nothings to me.

I want us to make soft love to '2U', but I also want to release my inner thirsty hoe on him (😏)

I want him to rub circles on my growing belly; to be beside me when I'm screaming profanities and popping out wrinkly-prune babies.

I want him to wail at me when our kids wipe their snotty, spitty hands on the shoulders of his shirt.

I want to cry into his chest about the fact that he's the favourite parent.

I want us and our kids to go out for dinner, for him to burst veins telling our teenage girl and me to wear something less showy.

I want us to hold hands at ninety, smiling gummy smiles as we soak in our nostalgia.

I want us to get buried together.

One day, I hope, there will be someone to hold me tight.