It's About Who You Miss At 2 PM, Not 2 AM

It’s About Who You Miss At 2 PM, Not 2 AM

It’s 2 p.m. and I am sitting in the library. I am surrounded by people, but I feel alone.

As I stare at my computer screen and drift into a daze I get flashes of flashbacks. I am holding a pencil and my hand is pressed against the metal notebook spirals. The pencil slips from the grasp of my fingertips. A student drops a book. The slam echoes in the silence. My mind travels back to reality. I pick my hand up. The tender skin is indented with curved lines. The tender skin is red.

My eyes refocus on the screen.

My mind creates a to-do list: Meeting at 3:30 p.m, class at 5 p.m, turn in my speech outline.

You pollute my stream of consciousness. I see you. I want you. In the midst of a busy day, I want you. In the middle of a field of books, I want you. Trapped in a world of thoughts, I want you.

I miss you.

It’s about who you miss at 2 p.m. not 2 a.m.

It’s human nature to miss a love at 2 a.m., it is a dark time of vulnerability. It is a black hole of loneliness. It’s human nature to feel empty sleeping alone. In a sea of pillows, I want to hear human breaths, human heartbeats. It’s human nature to want to feel loved, to want to feel needed. Companionship is comforting. Comfort is familiar companionship. It streams blood into an empty vessel. It radiates life to the lifeless.

But to miss someone at 2 a.m. is to fill a void of loneliness. It does not matter who is beside you. It’s to have someone beside you.

To miss someone at 2 p.m. is to fill the wall between two heart chambers. To miss someone at 2 p.m. is to miss the sound of their laughter, the touch of their palms against your hips, to miss the pitch of their voice, to miss that electric spark moving down your spine with each kiss. To miss someone at 2 p.m. is to miss their presence.

In the blink of an eye, a person becomes a ghost. All that is left is faded memories. Fragments of conversations. Small clippings of life scenes.

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About the author

Mackenzie Mickavicz