Because missing you is all I do.
Missing you is not being able to walk down my favorite street without feeling like the air has been squeezed out of my lungs painfully. The memory of us holding hands together, you brushing my hair out of my eye, and me reaching towards you for one more kiss. The images are so hauntingly beautiful, yet so out of reach.
Missing you is the feeling of complete helplessness as though I am in a foreign country unable to communicate with the locals in their native language. I miss you with every fiber of my soul and every ounce of me just want to tell you, but I no longer can. I see pictures of you and her plastered all over your social media. She has taken over my place beside you and fills up the place in your heart.
And I’m reduced to watching you from afar.
Missing you is like a caged bird trapped and all it can do is looks at the sky longingly, day after day. Whereas I’m still stuck in the past, you have progress to build a future with her. While I still feel like the same sixteen years old girl foolishly in love with you, you have become the man I always know you will.
Except that she’s the one you want. Not me.
I know I have to move on. I have to heal and get on in my life. I try so hard. I am so desperate to be okay. To not miss you. To move on. Nothing works so I try hating you. Hating you is easy.
I am willing to set myself on fire on the chance that it will turn you to ashes. I am willing have a hole in my memory than have any memories of mine tainted by you. I will sooner take a bullet straight into my heart than give you the chance to hurt me again.
Except that life does not work this way.
There is no magical solution that will fix everything. The feelings I have for you cannot be erased instantly. Hating you just consumes so much of my energy and it makes me so tired. Pretending that everything is okay doesn’t make it so.
Instead I will start to be kind to myself. I will start to think good thoughts and stop belittling myself. I will accept that I sill miss you and that doesn’t makes me weak. It makes me human. I will stop viewing moving on as a competition and become focused on my well-being. I will start to believe it is okay to just breathe and be. That it is alright to just exist and not force anything. I will start to be more accepting.
It is okay to be not okay.
To just fall apart if I need to. Crumble into pieces. Shatter into shreds. Just let myself come undone. Only after that can I truly heal.
Because even if I’m not okay now, I know I will eventually be.