I hate being the cactus—with no one to hug me, not receiving the hug I badly want someone to give. 

But I hate it more when I’m, consciously or unconsciously, being the man that walks past the cactus…without even looking, without even stopping by, without even asking how it is, without even giving the hug that the poor cactus wants needs.

I think I did it some few weeks ago. It’s making me feel bad again. I hope I was able to make it up with the person already.

(Source: leilockheart, via twofifthsofasecondinhismovie)