This Is How I Miss You

I miss the constant buzz on my phone that used to come from you every morning, and how it made the dreadful process of waking up that much more bearable. I miss how you make my mornings almost something I could anticipate each night before I go to bed. I miss knowing you’d never let my phone sleep.

I miss the frequency of you — the daily texts, the constant calls, and weekly dates. I miss knowing I could merely press a few buttons and hear from you seconds later. I miss the ease of it, the ease of finding you when I’m most in need.

I miss you ’til it hurts. I miss you when I run for hours in the rain, and the feeling still remains. I miss you when I’m talking to other people, who are great but they don’t suffice, not to you. Because no one does, no one has known me the longest, no one understands like you. I miss how you just knew, how you would give me that reassuring look.

The look that would come from your eyes, the look I’ve always wanted. Because your eyes brightened my otherwise black-and-white suburban kid world. I miss the incongruity you bring, the excitement that comes on city nights with you. I miss the shenanigans, the escapades, the youthful bliss. I miss the stories, the mornings after, the reminiscing and laughter in the car ride back home. I miss how home and you were always the end destination.

I miss you so much I’ve written you a continuous essay-length monologue in texts and messages you can’t even see. I’ve left you paragraphs and paragraphs on some fading social media site, fully knowing you won’t check for days. And I’m glad actually you won’t, I’m glad you are actually living in the present, wherever your traveling feet have landed now. I’m glad one of us is finally wandering beyond this rainy city. But I can’t help but miss you each time I slide through my contacts on my phone and I see your nickname starred as the first on my favorites. I can’t help but miss you when I wake up to vacant phone buzzes and desolate texts and only to be further reminded of your departure and my sadness when I see the picture of you and I on my desk. I can’t help but miss you this much and I really really can’t wait for you to come home. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

featured image – Kevin Dooley

About the author

Aman Basra

I have thematic discussions with my inanimate monkey.

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