Writing is letting the blood run freely from your injuries while simultaneously applying balm to the wound.

I’m not even sad, but all of a sudden I feel the clenching of my chest and tears prickling at my eyes. In this one moment, I just want to feel your presence solidly beside me. I want your arms tightly gathering me into your chest so I won’t fade away: I want to feel real, I want to feel my feet solidly on the ground, I want to know someone can pull me into a crushing embrace and not have their arms fall straight through me. I’m not even sad, but I want your comfort. I want your fingers trailing through my hair and your breath against my ear. I want to feel the steadfast drumming of your heart beneath your chest. I want to hear you say that you hate seeing me cry. I want to reconnect with reality as much as I want this scene to be real.