The Forgotten Journals III

yearn.

4/4/19

I want to hold your hand, and rub my thumb across your skin. I want to hug you without the need to cry, or the fear that it'll be our last. I want to kiss you on the cheek with no judgmental stares or fear of rejection. I want to wrap my arms around you and pull you close to me, immersing myself in your scent. I want to take naps next to you, my head on your chest or yours on mine. I want to take you to places you've never seen, and introduce you to the things you've never experienced. I want to crack jokes with you, laughing with tears streaming down our faces, and when tears spill from non-happiness, I want to hold you tight and whisper reassurances in your ear. I want you to be there for me in that way too. I want to hear your hopes and dreams for the future. I want to watch your eyes light up when you share good news and I want to console you when you have bad news. I want late night stargazing and early mornings to watch the stars fade away. I want to take you on goofy dates, and write you cheesy letters about how you make me feel. I want to believe in a future where it's you and me together, experiencing everything alongside each other. I want to take cute, head-ass pictures on your birthday, and candids of you on the many field trips we take together. I want arguments over stupid miscommunication, and the relief of making up afterwards. I want to be there for every accomplishment you make, and for you to be there through every mistake I make. I want you to wake up everyday knowing you're unconditionally loved by me, and I want to go to sleep hoping you're still there tomorrow. I want to sing at the top of my lungs with you to old music, and sit in silence appreciating the beauty of Chopin and Puccini. I want to geek out over the lamest stuff, and share our ideas of philosophy. I want you to know all of these things, but most importantly, I want to have the courage to finally tell you it all.