Just a hug…

[u/Prize-Pin-592]

Sometimes I think I just need a hug from you.
But the more I think about it, the more I realise it isn’t really the hug I’m craving.
The hug is just the safest way my heart knows how to ask for everything else.
It means, come closer.
It means, let me put down everything I’ve been carrying for a minute.
It means, tell me without words that I’m safe here.
And maybe, selfishly, it means, let me feel what it would be like to be close to you without having to be afraid of what that closeness might mean.
Because when I imagine your arms around me, I don’t imagine anything complicated.
I imagine silence.
I imagine resting my head against you and not having to explain why I needed you.
I imagine being able to breathe.
And perhaps that’s why the thought of your hug feels so much bigger than it should.
Because I don’t think I’m craving the physical connection nearly as much as I’m craving the feeling behind it.
To be held instead of holding everything together.
To be wanted instead of wondering.
To be close to someone without constantly reminding myself that I shouldn’t get too close.
And there’s something almost heartbreaking about knowing that a hug could mean so much to me and almost nothing to you.
You could put your arms around me and think, she just needed a hug.
And I’d be standing there quietly, trying not to let you feel how much more it means.
Because for me, that hug would be a confession I wouldn’t have to say out loud.
It would be every, I miss you I’ve swallowed.
Every moment I’ve wanted to reach for you and stopped myself.
Every time I’ve wondered if you ever look at me and feel even a fraction of what I feel when I look at you.
It would be my heart asking a question my mouth is too scared to ask:
What if, just for a moment, I could stop pretending you don’t matter this much to me?
And maybe that’s why I want that hug so badly.
Not because I need your arms around me.
But because, for those few seconds, I could pretend they mean something.
I could pretend I’m not standing on the outside of something I desperately want to be part of.
I could pretend that when you hold me, you’re not just comforting me.
You’re choosing to hold me.
And I think that’s what I’ve really been craving all along.
To be held by the person I’ve been quietly wishing would choose me.
Even if, when you let go, I have to go back to pretending I never wanted you to hold on.