There are some nights I lay in my bed and wonder how you are. I wonder if life is treating you well and if you’re getting everything you want out of it. I wonder if you’re laying in your own bed, and if you have someone with you. I wonder if you ever think of me.
Those nights, I tend to pick up my phone and message you. I ask how you’ve been. How your life is going. If anything new is happening. All of it laced with an undertone of “do you ever think about me?” and “do you ever miss me?”
However, after getting past the normal aspects of a conversation, I never know what to say. Maybe it’s because we haven’t been in the same space in so long, I don’t remember how to talk to you. Maybe it’s because honestly, I’m not as interested in talking to you as I am in being around you. Maybe it’s because what I remember the most about you is the chemistry I felt when you would walk into the room—the sparks and the nervousness that kept me on the edge of my seat. In other words, the things I remember most about you are really things that had nothing to do with you, and more about how you made me feel.
If I’m honest, I miss feeling that way around someone. I had never felt that way before, and I haven’t since. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t need to. I just knew that when you were with me, things were intense and incredible and somewhat reckless. It didn’t make any sense, but I wasn’t trying to figure it out. I just experienced it.
As most things like this tend to do, it fizzled out. Life became hectic, distance became a factor, and reasons worked their way in the spaces we created. It became easier to not see each other. It became easier to see other people. It became easier to not try anymore.
But you still cross my mind from time to time. It feels like a void that only opens up when I think of you despite that I can barely remember anything about you. Your voice feels like a watered down memory. The color of your eyes doesn’t register unless I see a picture. Nothing about you seemed to root itself into me, besides that feeling.
And I know that truthfully, it’s a selfish thing for me to only want to see you simply because of the way you made me feel back then. It’s not fair to you to reach out and ask to see you in hopes that maybe that spark will ignite once again. Because honestly, I know that our chemistry only lasts for so long, and we have nothing substantial to hold onto. We have never had any kind of foundation to build anything worthwhile on.
I don’t know if I actually miss you, or just the way you made me feel. But I know that the best thing for me to do is to set the phone down and allow what we had to be simply memory.
But if you end up reaching out to me, wondering the same things, then maybe I won’t mind rediscovering that kind of feeling all over again.