28. there always has to be a virus and a host

sleepless night. blurring horizons. stars dancing in front of the eyes.

last night wasn’t good. it was almost entirely awful. a stomach bug my sister had had found its way into my system and was reluctant to leave. a virus no doubt, fighting for its survival and i couldn’t blame it.
bleary-eyed and throughly exhausted, i couldn’t blame it, because we’re all viruses in some respect, finding shreds to cling to, hopes we know will never come true and yet we still long for, impossible dreams, people we don’t love, places we don’t want to stay in.
we cling to the most peculiar things, thoughts, memories just to have something grounding us in this volatile world.  

and so here’s me clinging to you, making you come round my house after you return from a day of hard work, hard study, just so that i can look into the vast expanse of your blue eyes, my hair uncombed, in my bed in my pyjamas, blacking out, hands shaking and still feel wanted right down to my very core.

can i kiss you on your forehead, at least? you ask and i protest, though to be in your arms is what i want, yearn for, almost need.
i don’t want to infect you.
i don’t want you to feel like i’m feeling right now because that would make things so much more difficult, don’t you understand?

there always has to be a virus and a host.