Now this is desperation to sit next to someone and spend each moment fighting the urge to touch them. Especially when you know they only see you as a reliable friend.
You sit with you hands clenched together trying to listen to the converstation around you without betraying the panic sweeping through you. Your skin feels warm with radiating electricity that seems seated somewhere in them.
You finally realize that someone is trying to get your attention, but you've been so focused on your gripped hands.
And you may try to join the conversation, but everything in you remains achingly on high alert. Keeping your heart and impulses from escaping because you know, if give the slightest chance or encouragement, they'd find your lips to their perfect neck and your arms wrapped around them.
You would be their's forever.
This is desperation.