Someone With Whom I Can Be

It's 8:51 pm.

I'm sitting on my bed in my PJs, listening to music, and scrolling through Pinterest. 

And I'm happy. 

I'm warm; sipping tea from the mug I made with my own hands, the ridges and bends perfectly fitting my fingers. 

Despite this comfortability, I find myself wishing there was someone's head against my shoulder. Someone to hold my hand under the covers. Not speaking, just being. With each other.

My bed is half-empty; occupied only by me.

I'm happy in my solitude because I'm rarely alone. My friends and family are ever-present in my life, filling it with laughter and joy. 

But I'm tired of the "right person wrong time" narrative.

I want someone to be my person. 

Someone with whom I can just, be.