‘Stuffed with Hugs and Good Wishes’

There must have been a ‘Once upon a time’ in my life where I didn’t have a problem with hugging people, there must have been a ‘Once upon a time’ where I didn’t force/make people try so hard just to get ‘in’ or that I didn’t struggle so much with letting them in… There must have been, right!?

I strongly believe that ANYONE that has met me or ‘knows’ me will tell you that I have a wall, regardless of what it is for and how it makes me look it is there. It does most of the time make me look like a cold cut off bitch. I am probably okay with that; it is better than them knowing everything about me. Mostly because, in order to know everything about me, you have to know everything about my family – and no matter what happens [no matter what they do, even if they hurt me] – I refuse to be the reason for their hatred towards me, their vengeance or their pain. I refuse. That may be a reason for the wall, who knows…

Regardless of my wall, regardless of the bad things I have done, regardless of the good things I have done, and regardless of what I have and haven’t achieved so far in life; I think that as a female, I have the want for being protected (to a certain degree) by the person I love, or by a person. As a human, there is that option of having someone just hold you… Someone you TRUST and love, hold you and make you feel ‘okay’ for a minute or two. In those moments, you forget words and their meanings and the looks in peoples eyes; you just feel… You feel the tightness and the warmth within them. But most of all, you know exactly how that embrace makes you feel. You have to go from there.

I am in the position of only trusting one person that I love. They may get distrcated from time to time. They may even really rub me the wrong way! But when they hold me… All the words they said, mean more, the looks of love and trust and beauty and peace and kindness; mean much much more to me. And them. If I don’t believe that, then I really have nothing. Nothing.

I have always never had ‘thousands’ of friends; I have never wanted many. I like the smallness of what I have got. I like that I know them, they know me, and that I can rely on them because they spent so long getting to know and learn me; for me to reply with my honesty. ‘There are *around 5* people on planet Earth that I could call at 3am in the morning and ask if they will help me bury a dead body, and they would, no questions asked.’ I like it that way.

I don’t care what people think of me, I can’t, I don’t have enough space for that. I don’t care if you think I’m heartless and cold; because the selected few, the honest few, know the truth.

There is one person, right now, asleep, somewhere in the world that I trust wholly and completely and only want to be held by. One. No one else will compare. I don’t want to be held by a liar, a psycho, or anyone in between.

If you know me, you know I’m stubborn.

I will only be held, by you.


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