sentimental

Today has been a severely literary day; I spent most of it reading for classes. And I spent my free time feeling like I should be writing, so I’ve been going over my book so I could continue it. The feeling is so strange. It’s like the nostalgia and sentimentality of going over an old journal mixed with the intention to create.

Lately, in the moments when I’m alone with my thoughts (which can be very often, even in a room full of people), I’ve been feeling very sentimental. Like I just want to love and be loved–but not necessarily in love. Like I just want a big hug from certain people I love without worrying about anything, and being able to just stay in those hugs until forever. And sleep together in a real pile, just like the Wild Things.