What Is The Human Condition If Not Loving Your Friends And Then Crying Over How Much You Love Your Friends

I crave warmth everywhere. In the morning sun or in sunsets or in music, art, places, just warm energy. When people recommend you songs or movies or tell you how much you mean to them, when people say I love you out of the blue, or a smile from random strangers, people going on walks with you or a picnic date with friends, when somebody talks about the person they love or the times when you are laughing uncontrollably with a group of people you love, I crave that warmth.

I know this is super mundane but I can’t wait to hold my girlfriends hand. I haven’t held anyone’s hand since I was a kid unless I was super stressed but like just existing and holding hands. Walking down the street hand in hand, sitting in a cafe with our hands entwined on top of the table, holding hands over the center console in the car. Just holding hands and existing together is so fantastic to me

when ben platt said

“i want your friends to be my friends

i’ll make you breakfast in your bed

i want it all with you

and if I'm coming on too strong

it's 'cause i've waited far too long

for someone just like you”

i felt that in the most sapphic way possible.

friends to lovers never had a bad track. “scared i’ll ruin what we have” SLAPS. “friendship cuddles while secretly dying inside” BANGER. “teasing each other and holding eye contact for a little too long” KILLS ME. and don’t even get me STARTED on “screaming i love you in the middle of a heated argument.”

Can we just take a moment to appreciate that Conan Gray is really out here writing music about having good friends and a painful yet mostly made up romantic life ‘cause there is nothing more valid. 

There’s an ache of eighteen. In the back of the car with your mother. In your childhood friend’s home. In hallways you’ve walked a thousand times. In the shortcut home from school. In the marks on the wall long outgrown. In your last assignment. In packing your life into boxes. In a space with people you grew up and apart with. This will not come again.

Life returns to fleeting moments that must be gripped tightly for fear of losing them; you return to the kitchen floor.

The edge of childhood. Please take my hand. Please don’t let go.

April and May were painful, lonely months for me because I couldn’t talk to you. I never knew that spring could be so painful and lonely. Better to have three Februaries than a spring like this.

- Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

“Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.” — Claude Monet.

The Water Lily Pond (1899) by Claude Monet.

I don’t know what business I thought I had listening to doddleoddle at 2:36 in the morning but honestly? F u c k  my emotions and f u c k  my need to cry over how much I miss you. Im gonna to go take a nap I refuse to write you another letter I know I’ll never send right now. 

Is there really anything else we need besides music and friends?