#14
everyone wants to be loved.
i was walking in the rain, and everyone wants to be loved. i was walking back home from class, staring down at the wet pavement and i realized that all anyone truly wants out of life is to be loved and loved forever.
i had a hot cup of apple cider in my hand, i was excited for the holidays, holidays meant holiday drinks (which are the best kind of drinks). my mind wandered to peppermint glazed hot chocolate, pumpkin spiced lattes, ginger bread spiked tea, and those amazing and intoxicating nights of eggnog.
i miss loving someone. i miss being loved.
i looked up for a moment, as i was walking through the rain, and for a split second, i swear i heard everyone around me escape a sigh; everyone wants to be loved. everyone wants to be held. i realized suddenly how cold i was, tight jeans, yellow rain boots, tank top under turtle neck under pea coat and i was cold. maybe i should put my hood on, my beautiful straightening job was slowly unveiling its true contours. i didn't bother putting on a hood, it's a lost cause anyway.
i really need to stop looking at the ground as i walk, its not really a low self confidence thing, it's more of a misanthropic thing. eye contact equals obligations of recognition which leads to conversations that are usually awkward and i just can't deal with awkward.
i was grabbed out of nowhere. from nowhere someone grabbed me and i didn't scream, i just took in a sharp deep breath and closed my eyes.
everyone wants to be loved.
"you're going to cach yourself a nasty cold." and he locked his arms just above my waist.
"you shouldn't scare people like that, it's not nice."
he kissed me on my cheek, "fuck you're freezing!!!" he kissed my neck and started rubbing my shoulders.
"i'm okay." fuck, i was freezing. i took my hood off. he put it back on. i took my hood off.
he glared at me, "you're going to catch a cold"
"you can warm me up"
"enticing offer"
i smiled and hit him playfully.
"what! i wasn't thinking that."
"yeah, of course not"
everyone wants to be held.
he picked me up, one arm under my knees and one arm supporting my back, my arms around his neck and i didn't say anything. i say i hate being picked up, but the truth is, i love it. i say i don't like being picked up because i always feel like i'm heavier than i look and i don't want people who pick me up to not think of me as dainty and delicate, though no one has yet complained. i really can't be that heavy because people pick me up all the time, it's just an odd internal fear of mine.
so i squirmed my way out of his grasp and he held his arm around my waist.
there ae four places i love to be held:
1) around my waist
2) the small of my back
3) the back of my neck
4) on or around my hip
i supported my head on his shoulder; he was just tall enough so that it was comfortable for me to lay my head just below his shoulder as we walked and it didn't look like i was awkwardly leaning my head on his arm. i hate awkward. i was tired.
we reached my door, "you want to come up?"
he smiled and so i opened the door and he held on to my hand as we walked up the stairs. i like holding hands, or more i like playing with hands, oddly enough hands are probably one of my favorite body parts on the male species. they are the pinnacle of contours and angles and textures that a man should have. he had nice hands, they were large enough, almost always clean. They had their stories, could have used more angles or shadows, but the texture made up for it. his hands weren't calloused, but they weren't soft. it always worried me when boys had soft hands. it meant they didn't do enough work or they put way too much attention towards the care of them.
she wasn't in. we sat on my bed, i was so tired. he took off his shoes and his coat, neither of us had umbrellas. i took off my boots; my socks weren't wet, but they didn't match. he laughed, "your socks don't match"
"i realize"
i hung up my coat and took off my turtle neck. i went towards the mirror to see the damage done. some mascara was running and i wiped it off. my hair was another story. it was soaked and wavy and straggly. i brushed my hand through it and let out a groan.
"you look fine, dry your hair before you catch your death"
i grabbed a towel and fought my hair through it, i stuck my head out from underneath and my hair had decided to shame me thoroughly by puffing up and drying in random places. he laughed and i gave up.
i layed back down on the bed with him. the room was nice; just chilly enough so that when he put his arm around me i was warm and cozy. he buried his face into my neck, one of the few body parts i own that i don't have any complaints with; so i liked that he played with it. he knows it gets to me. it can be so many things. done correctly it can be so sweet, done correctly it can be so romantic, done correctly it can be so sexy. i'm a sucker for neck kisses and unfortently for me, he was quite good in that area. he held me close and nuzzled my neck with his nose, lightly kissing my neck. i closed my eyes and took it all in. i love being held.
everyone wants to be held, and when he held me i felt safe. he twirled damp strands of my hair though his fingers. he buried his face this time in the soft crevice where my neck and collarbone meet. i could feel his lips on my skin and it gave me a chill. he layed his head there, laying on his stomache, arm around me, caressing, and he closed his eyes, taking me in. i played with his hair. i loved his hair, it was so soft, one of the few things on a guy i think should be soft. it was soft and just long enough to play wtih between my fingers and he sighed.
i liked his eyes. they were green, they weren't like his becuase they were green and not blue, but still, they were nice. they were determined and green. he was asleep because i could tell. my hair was drying and i was tired so i let myself fall asleep, safe, in his arms.
i just want to be loved. because thats what it's all about, waking up, in someones arms, and smiling.
a few minutes later i woke up. he was holding me tightly and i looked up and he was smiling.
i was walking in the rain, and everyone wants to be loved. i was walking back home from class, staring down at the wet pavement and i realized that all anyone truly wants out of life is to be loved and loved forever.
i had a hot cup of apple cider in my hand, i was excited for the holidays, holidays meant holiday drinks (which are the best kind of drinks). my mind wandered to peppermint glazed hot chocolate, pumpkin spiced lattes, ginger bread spiked tea, and those amazing and intoxicating nights of eggnog.
i miss loving someone. i miss being loved.
i looked up for a moment, as i was walking through the rain, and for a split second, i swear i heard everyone around me escape a sigh; everyone wants to be loved. everyone wants to be held. i realized suddenly how cold i was, tight jeans, yellow rain boots, tank top under turtle neck under pea coat and i was cold. maybe i should put my hood on, my beautiful straightening job was slowly unveiling its true contours. i didn't bother putting on a hood, it's a lost cause anyway.
i really need to stop looking at the ground as i walk, its not really a low self confidence thing, it's more of a misanthropic thing. eye contact equals obligations of recognition which leads to conversations that are usually awkward and i just can't deal with awkward.
i was grabbed out of nowhere. from nowhere someone grabbed me and i didn't scream, i just took in a sharp deep breath and closed my eyes.
everyone wants to be loved.
"you're going to cach yourself a nasty cold." and he locked his arms just above my waist.
"you shouldn't scare people like that, it's not nice."
he kissed me on my cheek, "fuck you're freezing!!!" he kissed my neck and started rubbing my shoulders.
"i'm okay." fuck, i was freezing. i took my hood off. he put it back on. i took my hood off.
he glared at me, "you're going to catch a cold"
"you can warm me up"
"enticing offer"
i smiled and hit him playfully.
"what! i wasn't thinking that."
"yeah, of course not"
everyone wants to be held.
he picked me up, one arm under my knees and one arm supporting my back, my arms around his neck and i didn't say anything. i say i hate being picked up, but the truth is, i love it. i say i don't like being picked up because i always feel like i'm heavier than i look and i don't want people who pick me up to not think of me as dainty and delicate, though no one has yet complained. i really can't be that heavy because people pick me up all the time, it's just an odd internal fear of mine.
so i squirmed my way out of his grasp and he held his arm around my waist.
there ae four places i love to be held:
1) around my waist
2) the small of my back
3) the back of my neck
4) on or around my hip
i supported my head on his shoulder; he was just tall enough so that it was comfortable for me to lay my head just below his shoulder as we walked and it didn't look like i was awkwardly leaning my head on his arm. i hate awkward. i was tired.
we reached my door, "you want to come up?"
he smiled and so i opened the door and he held on to my hand as we walked up the stairs. i like holding hands, or more i like playing with hands, oddly enough hands are probably one of my favorite body parts on the male species. they are the pinnacle of contours and angles and textures that a man should have. he had nice hands, they were large enough, almost always clean. They had their stories, could have used more angles or shadows, but the texture made up for it. his hands weren't calloused, but they weren't soft. it always worried me when boys had soft hands. it meant they didn't do enough work or they put way too much attention towards the care of them.
she wasn't in. we sat on my bed, i was so tired. he took off his shoes and his coat, neither of us had umbrellas. i took off my boots; my socks weren't wet, but they didn't match. he laughed, "your socks don't match"
"i realize"
i hung up my coat and took off my turtle neck. i went towards the mirror to see the damage done. some mascara was running and i wiped it off. my hair was another story. it was soaked and wavy and straggly. i brushed my hand through it and let out a groan.
"you look fine, dry your hair before you catch your death"
i grabbed a towel and fought my hair through it, i stuck my head out from underneath and my hair had decided to shame me thoroughly by puffing up and drying in random places. he laughed and i gave up.
i layed back down on the bed with him. the room was nice; just chilly enough so that when he put his arm around me i was warm and cozy. he buried his face into my neck, one of the few body parts i own that i don't have any complaints with; so i liked that he played with it. he knows it gets to me. it can be so many things. done correctly it can be so sweet, done correctly it can be so romantic, done correctly it can be so sexy. i'm a sucker for neck kisses and unfortently for me, he was quite good in that area. he held me close and nuzzled my neck with his nose, lightly kissing my neck. i closed my eyes and took it all in. i love being held.
everyone wants to be held, and when he held me i felt safe. he twirled damp strands of my hair though his fingers. he buried his face this time in the soft crevice where my neck and collarbone meet. i could feel his lips on my skin and it gave me a chill. he layed his head there, laying on his stomache, arm around me, caressing, and he closed his eyes, taking me in. i played with his hair. i loved his hair, it was so soft, one of the few things on a guy i think should be soft. it was soft and just long enough to play wtih between my fingers and he sighed.
i liked his eyes. they were green, they weren't like his becuase they were green and not blue, but still, they were nice. they were determined and green. he was asleep because i could tell. my hair was drying and i was tired so i let myself fall asleep, safe, in his arms.
i just want to be loved. because thats what it's all about, waking up, in someones arms, and smiling.
a few minutes later i woke up. he was holding me tightly and i looked up and he was smiling.