In love with a friendship.

You’ve asked twice about what I wrote yesterday. 
I found myself writing about you. It’s weird…because I had no plan on doing it. Words just started to write themselves as if they knew you.
 I kinda told you that I wasn’t feeling good at home. It’s desesperately uncomfortable. And yesterday, the feeling was at its finest. I felt awful, so much, that I cried. And as I cried, the only thing I wanted, was to have you there, for you to hug me so tight, that tears wouldn’t have a way out. And I could only think about that because you are that peace that comes to my mind in trouble. 
You don’t transmit it. 
You are peace itself. 
And you fill me up not knowing it. 
Yesterday I was feeling empty, because you were not there. 
And it makes me want to cry again, because I don’t understand the feeling.
 It’s just there. Not going away.

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