MY LETTER TO YOU.
MY LETTER TO YOU. If you ask me what I want? I won’t say I don’t know. Of course, I do. I want a lot of things. I have my life sorted and my goals all labeled out. I do know what I want. But if you throw that question at me right now, I’ll pause then say I just want an intense hug. An intense hug for all my worries to go away, an intense hug to release my shoulders from the burden and tension of feeling underachieved, an intense hug just for reassurance, a hug just for the fun of it. Maybe after that, I can now list out all my wants, my desires, my retrospect. Maybe I’ll rant about how I just want to sleep and wake up fully made, rant about how I badly want to fulfill a lot and I feel there’s no time but there’s still a lot of time. And I don’t want you to tell me it’ll be fine. That’s a phrase I use all the time. It has become more of a recitation than embodiment of hope it should be. But I’ll very much appreciate if you just hold my hands and kiss the worries off my brows. Moving on