#24.09.19

“yanlış yerde olduğunu hissettiğinde en azından kalkıp gitme şansın var. ya yanlış zamandaysan?”

|dirk maassen - la mer|

Con aquél atuendo sacado de un libro,

Va silencioso,

Cazándola a ella,

No la ve,

No la escucha,

Pero ahí va.

La mentira con máscara de lealtad,

Con paso rápido,

Sutil, ligera,

Pero mortal,

Tan mortal como un incendio por debajo del agua,

Cómo el llanto de los desiertos,

Pero no va sola,

Le sigue la ira con máscara de placer.

Verb: To yearn deeply; to suffer with painful longing.

I feel myself pining constantly. There's a dull ache in me that's never quite filled. In my comparably brief existence, I've pined for most of it.

I yearn for emotional intimacy. I suffer for a true connection. I long painfully for someone to care for... and for that same someone to care about me.

I'm pining. Not for a particular person, but for the idea of a person.

I pine for a person to hold hands with. A person to hold. A person to live for. A person with whom to grow old.

I yearn for somebody to laugh with. Somebody to touch. Somebody to be there. Somebody who makes it not hurt so much.

I long for someone to see me for me. Someone to just get it. Someone to talk to. Someone to listen.

The person, the connection that I crave could be platonic or something more. I pine for someone the way a dog pines for their owner, their best friend. During the day I wait. I wait for my best friend to walk through that door. A dog waits in trepidation and so do I.

The main difference between us is that a dog knows who their best friend is and that they'll return. They pine for briefly losing what they have.