I never told you this, but sometimes I just sit there and imagine all the little scenarios of us in my head. Basic things like watching movies, cuddling, doing late night food runs, have deep conversations, and taking random trips. I just miss you and want to be with you.

There is a rotten feeling of melancholy and loneliness on some nights which you can’t quite explain. You suddenly want to be buried—whether under the ground, under a comforter, or in a hug that’s here to stay, you don’t yet know—but you suddenly feel like mould and dust and the colour of a funeral on a dull day; you suddenly want to sit in the middle of a puddle of gloom and stare off at the white wall till daybreak peeks through the window crack. You want away; you want the ocean bed; you want stillness; you want nothingness. Because you feel like nothingness.

sometimes I don't think I'm actually good at writing, I think I'm just good at making specific scenes but having absolutely NO clue how to write the parts that connect them