I want love. I yearn for unstable. I need to be up at three in the morning. I hunger to be able to need someone. I love objects and materials. Because that’s easy. But I want someone to make me feel sick with love. Nauseous of the thought of losing them. I desire a purpose. I don’t want to be able to walk away from the situation. With barely a tear on my face. I need to feel. How can I expect anyone to love me? If I can’t love them? I want to be completely on top of the world. As well as being so close to hell. I want to get so fixated with another individual. That I remember the exact shape of their eyes. And the colour they glow. I want to feel butterflies. I want to get anxious. I want to have a reason to impress someone. I want pain. A fire burning throughout my heart and veins. Rather than being stone cold constantly. Candles rather than ice cubes. I want to feel alive. I want a reason to feel happiness. I want dopamine. Instead of a zombified soul.