I miss you when I’ve spent the day by myself on the couch watching Netflix realizing just how alone I am.
I miss you when I walk around the silent house with no one to laugh with or share secrets with.
I miss you when it’s time for Sunday night family dinner and you’re not there to my left. You’re not sitting in the chair you’ve sat in so many times before. I miss you when I want to tell a story that you’re in or when I’m looking for someone to back me up.
I miss you when the world is silent and the roads are open. I miss you when there are no distractions to help me forget about you. I miss you when the breeze blows just enough to make me feel like maybe you’re thinking of me, too.
Most of all I miss you when I’m driving and I hear a sad song come on, when no one else is on the road in the dark of the night and I can’t stop the tears. They come streaming down my face as the memories of you fill my head. In a twisted way the more sad I become the better I feel.
I let the lyrics fuel the memories of us as I reminisce about the good times we used to share.
Sundays are different; it’s the day that makes you feel alone.
It’s the nights that are dark and calm and quiet. It’s the night your memory can’t escape my thoughts. It’s the night where I feel more alone than usual and the world feels empty.
On Sunday nights you creep back into my life and I let myself feel the sting of your memory. I absorb the memory of you and I wallow in pity of all that we used to be. It’s the one night of the week I let you come back into my life, it’s the one night of the week I let you take over and I allow myself to miss you.
I’m strong on Mondays when the week is kicking off; it’s like a fresh start.
I’m strong on Thursdays when the week is almost over and Friday’s when everyone is celebrating with beer after work.
I’m strong on Saturday’s when I’m surrounded by friends, too busy to even think of you.
But on Sunday nights, after the week has come to an end and all I’m surrounded with is darkness and silence before Monday morning sneaks back around, that’s when I miss you the most. That’s when I allow myself to let you back in, just for a few hours because for some reason it’s hardest to fall asleep on Sunday nights without you by my side.
It’s the loneliness that never fails to show up like a hurricane and rock all the strength I’ve built up throughout the week not living in your memory.
There are 52 Sundays a year and each one that passes is another Sunday that I’m working towards getting over you.
Before I know it I won’t even realize it’s a Sunday night and I’ll no longer miss you, but for now I’ll embrace your memories on Sundays, I won’t push away the pain. I’ll let it absorb me, I’ll let your memory make me miss you, I’ll allow myself to cry and to fully feel my emotions. I know I don’t always have to be strong, but I only let myself miss you on days I allow it.
I only allow myself to miss you on Sunday nights because I still like to convince myself I lost someone worth missing.