there’s this kind of longing that i feel. longing for what? i don’t really know. it’s not particularly describable because it’s not a looming presence or anything big. it just kind of exists. the worst part of it, though, is that it’s actively existing and that means it’s growing. like something that juts out unexpectedly, it snags on a small piece of something that’s just above my ribcage and just below my collarbones, but not exactly my heart or my lungs or anything that you can consider “vital”.
sitting here, on my crumpled bedsheets, underneath my messy pastel orange covers, drowning myself in adele, i just want this feeling of longing to go, leave, disappear, vanish. i want something good, really good, to happen to me. and really, i want to cry it all out.
perhaps an episode of grey’s anatomy is in order.