I want to tell him to meet me in my old, abandoned room. I want to feel his skin on mine. I want to feel wanted again. It sounds so stupid and whiny. But I want stability. He’s what I know. It’s been over a year, and I still know him better than anybody. No feelings, just familiarity and a warm body that I know. A physical weight on my body, instead of the invisible one I carry on my shoulders.

I don’t want complications. I don’t want to talk. I don’t even want to cry.

The only thing holding me back is the fact that none of my friends would be okay with it. That’s my problem, pleasing everybody around me, but never pleasing myself.

But I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if this isn’t what I should do. I want this. I want to feel good again.

I don’t want to think about my dad leaving, or moving… again. I don’t want to think about living at different friend’s houses. I don’t want to think about moving in nine days. I don’t want to think about my homework, or not having my cats anymore. I don’t want to think about making excuses to not be around people.

I just want to feel good again.