White Pavement

Everyone tells you that being alone holds some kind of glorious freedom. I know what I need but I really don't want it. All I really crave is closeness. It's not about a fear of dying single, or the prospect of being a spinster, or the lack of a personal identity, it's a physical need. Have you ever had that impossibly uncomfortable feeling where you can't see the future, as if you're wearing glasses that block any kind of light, and six months from now looks like white pavement? Scarily blank. I hate that feeling. When all I see is white pavement I just want to be hugged until I explode. I think the only cure for white-pavement vision is crushing embrace. My problem is that I'm a silly little girl. I throw all of myself into something in complete confidence with a breathless "this is it"-ness. Of course it never is. As lame as this sounds, I miss being an object of affection. I miss kissing under covers and the promise of a hand to hold and boy smelling arms. I miss tangled hair and crooked grins. What I hate most is being literally almost always on the verge of tears. It's so unnatural because I've never been a crier.