Want you to want me in Dear John

I miss you. Words can’t express how much. I’ve just got home from our pizza date and I miss how easy it was, how happy we were, how tactile we were. We’d hold hands, you’d throw your arm around my shoulder, rest casually on my bum.

It feels like if out of a scale of one to ten, the first few dates are one, then things rev up to probably eight before you move onto houses and marriage and babies, we were at seven or eight, and now we’re back down to two or three. Although we’re emotionally as close as we’ve been, physically things leave a lot to be desired.

I miss the way you looked at me, like I was the most beautiful thing you’d seen, and if you couldn’t have me soon it’d be like a hell on earth. I’m petrified you’ll never look at me like that again, that as much as you love me, you’ll never want me the same way.

Xx