Missing Someone Doesn’t Mean They Belong In Your Life

Missing Someone Doesn’t Mean They Belong In Your Life

I think about you damn near every day. I’ve been thinking about you since the day you entered my life.

You were, and still are, so tall and handsome with big, rough hands that drew me in. I wanted to know you, so I took my time and I learned who you were.

I learned how you slept and how you snored. I learned you weren’t a breakfast person, but you loved your morning coffee. I learned you were kind, like really, genuinely kind. You cared about people and you wanted everyone to be included. I learned every time you sat on the couch you grabbed a pillow to wrap your arms around. I learned that you could only sleep in pitch black with the doors closed and you cringed over the fact anyone could sleep with socks on.

And of everything I learned about you, the one thing I’m still certain of is that I still miss you terribly, but I know we don’t belong in each other’s lives.

I could call you, send you a text, show up at your door, do whatever I wanted to do to contact you, but that wouldn’t change a thing. It wouldn’t make us compatible because I’m admitting, yet again, that I miss you. Just because I miss you doesn’t mean it would make everything work out.

All it would do is cause more pain. It would be like the cut that is almost healed being split wide open again.

I would love to crawl back into your bed one more time, I would love to kiss your lips and tell you how I’ve missed you, but it would be toxic.

It would be like I’m choosing to slowly kill myself.

I could love you again; I could call you and tell you I need you. But it would just rekindle the pain. It would be like breaking my leg again when it was in the process of healing. It would be like getting hit by a bus, then walking back out in traffic and getting hit again.

It would be like getting stabbed in the heart, then walking right back into the knife because I couldn’t stay away.

As much as I miss you, I know we aren’t meant for each other and we’re definitely not good for each other.

You’re the alcohol and I’m the painkillers, we’re safe when we’re alone, but together we’re a dangerous combination.

I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to separate you from your memories. I’ve been trying to convince myself I miss the memories, not you. It’s working a little, every day I try to think about you less. The pain of losing you is getting quieter.

I don’t reach for you anymore in the morning and I don’t sit around waiting for your call anymore at night.

I’m moving on and I’m trying to get stronger, but I still don’t think there will ever come a day where I don’t miss you, at least a little. But I’m getting there and I know going through the pain of missing you is just part of moving on.

You might forever live in my heart, but you’ll no longer live in my life. I’m moving on, for good this time. I’m done sabotaging my own heart going back to you because I can miss you all I want, but we will never be good for each other. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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