Sometimes at night I suddenly become aware of all the things I’m missing out on right now, and all the people who I’m not close to anymore, and all of the good times that will never happen again, and all the people who meant the world to me who have forgotten about me forever, and I get this awful feeling that’s kind of like a mix between loneliness and nostalgia.
You don’t need to buy me expensive things or take me out to dinner every night or even every weekend. I don’t need the world or want the world. I want the little things. If you push my hair out of face or rub my back. Or if you randomly kiss my cheek. Or text me randomly saying you miss me. Or if you make a tweet about me or post a picture of us. Then that’s all I care about. I want the little things. I care way more about that, than anything else.