worldsaway

I just want a hug.
Not the kind you give out of habit, or politeness, or because it’s expected—but a real one.
The kind that lingers. The kind that says something without needing words.

I want a hug that feels like being held together when I’m quietly falling apart.
Where the weight I carry every day—stress, anxiety, that constant hum of darkness—softens for just a moment.
Not because everything is suddenly fixed, but because, for once, I’m not holding it alone.

I want a tight hug. The kind where you don’t pull away too soon.
Where I can feel that I matter enough for someone to stay a little longer.
Where breathing slows down, and the noise in my head gets quieter, even if just for a few seconds.

Not rushed. Not surface-level.
A deep, steady kind of hug that feels like being understood without having to explain anything.

Just the kind of hug that comes from being deeply, genuinely cared about.
The kind that says, I see you. I’m here. You don’t have to be okay right now.

I think I just want to feel safe like that, if only for a moment.