love's an excuse to get hurt, and to hurt
And the thing that's missing is particular feelings.

That little something that gives that tickly warmness in your chest...
That sweet drawing sensation you get from listening to particular tunes and melodies that drawn your mind in reminiscing;
The waiting of something great to come, to blow and to scatter your entire soul in the firework of happiness.
But now it doesn't come, and now it's like having sex without a culmination.

I miss it.
Without it - I'm missing.

I hate this spring just as much as i love any other one...