The ugly parts of missing you include when I’m laying there alone overcome with loneliness but it isn’t the type of lonely that company can make go away. It’s the type only you can.
I look at my phone and type a message only to delete it because I know if you wanted to talk to me you would. The silence is a reminder you don’t want to. The silence is a reminder that it probably doesn’t bother you like it does me.
The ugly parts of missing you include when something really good happens and I want to tell you I have to remember, you don’t deserve to be a part of my good days when you caused so many bad ones.
It’s when something really horrible happens and your strength and words to motivate me could help but instead, I have to find the strength within myself.
The ugly parts of missing you are going to certain places and just seeing your ghost there. Turning every corner and wondering will you be there? Am I ready to see you?
It’s wanting to see you but at the same time, I don’t. Because I’m going to have to put up this front like it isn’t killing me instead to see you’re doing fine.
It’s running only to find everywhere I go I see you there. And I can’t quite shake it.
The ugly parts of missing you are when someone asks me a question about you and I don’t know the answer when I used to.
When someone asks have I heard from you and I can I count the days I haven’t.
It’s simple things like wanting to know how you are and what you’re up to lately. But not wanting to know enough to ask.
It’s missing the littlest of things like laughing and throwing back beers. The memories I thought I’d always look back at happy and not overcome with this sadness mourning what was and accepting what won’t ever be again.
It’s thinking back and remember how I reminded myself to value those moments because something in my gut told me you were always destined to be a part of my past.
I cherished every hello because I knew a goodbye would come sooner or later.
It’s missing the little things. Like having someone to talk to. Someone I knew with confidence would be there when I needed them.
It was trusting someone enough to need them when everything before that was pushing people away out of fear of getting too close. But you did so easily.
Towards the end, it felt like silences became awkward but I would have chosen that over realizing we’ve run out of things to say.
The ugly parts of missing you include trying to date and just looking for you in everyone finding a million reasons they fall short. And only one thing they have in common. They aren’t you.
It’s the notifications I wake up to and look for your name remembering once upon a time your attention was the only one that mattered.
It’s walking away and wanting to say I love you like I used to but suddenly realizing you never really loved me back or loved me the way I needed you to.
It’s looking at you and I don’t see the man I used to. Yeah, you look the same. You sound the same. But when someone breaks your heart everything about the way you perceive them, changes.
I don’t see a future I thought would become a reality. All I see is this pain I can’t escape. A pain that wakes me in the dead of night and I’m suddenly wide awake haunted by all of it.
The ugly parts of missing you include thinking about you all the time and not even being able to help it. Feeling your absence in every part of my body.
And I’m trying to be okay. I’m trying to figure out what would make me happy.
But I can’t come up with anything.
It’s odd how the same person who once brought you so much joy can be the same reason you’re crying yourself to sleep at night.
But I can’t blame you for the pain you’ve caused. Pain that hurts that deeply means it must have been something real at least for a little while.
It took you to realize I can’t choose people to want me the same way I want them.
I can’t love someone enough to make them want to stay.
But most of all I think there are some holes and some empty spaces you learn to live within your heart because someone people leave taking bits and pieces of you with them.
The ugly parts of missing you are realizing you’re always going to be the person I go back to if you asked. And I hate myself for that. I hate myself for choosing you as much as I would if ever you gave me the choice. The truth is it’s always been you. It’s always going to be you.
And I’m afraid I’ll spend the rest of my life missing you, longing for what could have been fixated on you and all you made me.