RomanceBreaking Up

I Miss The Future You

“I miss you.”

The words, wrapped in unsureness, created with letters of desperation, escaped my quivering lips in an attempt to force their way into your inattentive ears.

“Huh?” Is the only remark you conjure, because as per the usual, you cannot hear me over the snapping of another selfie of your need-for-attention face. You cannot hear me, because the voices of your army of three-thousand plus followers drown out the charm in my steady serene soothing voice. You cannot hear me, because I am too close to leave and you are still interested in the thrill of the chase, high of the game, and the prospects roaming the field.

I repeat the words, “I miss you.” You pause. Power off the bright phone screen, grab me by the chin, and place a rough kiss on my precious plump lips. Your brown eyes stare into mine as I wait in anticipation for your next words. Hopefully words of reassurance that we’ll be okay, and if not, that we’ll fix the problems that exist. Perhaps words that will provide my anxious erratic soul with optimism. Then you speak, and I realize just how delusional I have become. Delusional to believe that you could comfort my flustering emotions.

“Baby, you’re drunk.”

I am. I am drunk on the nothingness you provide. I am drunk on the thought of you and everything you could be. I am drunk on the possibilities of a fictitious reality where I so desperately want to be, but you would rather chase artificial superficialities. I am drunk. I am drunk because when I think of you, I wish you were the shadow of your future self.

“I miss you?” I say again. This time softer. In the form of a question, not the emphatic statement that it should be. Deep down I know the words are produced because you are slipping away. I know the words come to life because we are drifting apart. The words enter our one-sided conversation, because I know once you leave, you’re not coming back. I will not let you. You will not want to. Things are becoming serious and you are not ready for it. After-all, this is the only issue we have.

We both know you got what you wanted from me. You received excitement, adventures, laughs, and late night in between the sheet dances. You were never in it for the long haul. You are addicted to the game. I’m simply another difficult puzzle that you were able to solve.

I’m always in it for the long haul. I hate the game. You’re simply another face to a lesson I have yet to learn. But I am learning.

As you walked out the door, I protect myself from the emotions that are bound to come. Why would I miss you? I ask the inner me. Then I vilify you, because how else am I supposed to find comfort? For all the good you possess, I shred your character because I need to heal today, not tomorrow.

What can you provide? I ask. Another bar tab that you cannot afford? Another late night while I watch you float higher than the clouds? Another bitter burnt drunken ganja kiss followed by you clumsily rolling me over for your nightly fix?

Tell me, what am I supposed to miss? I continue.

You sleeping all day, partying all night while I grind all day, grind all night, and party when the time is right?

You highly navigating through life with grand ideals yet no plan, no action?

You getting stranded again because you have no concept of financial responsibility?

Yet, I miss you? I conclude.

Yeah, kid. I miss you. I miss the future you. The you I hope to see you become one day. The you who trades his lowlife friends for acquaintances that will help elevate him to the next level. The you that finally puts that creative intellect, impeccable insight, and keen ability to read people and situations to good use. That’s the you I miss. The you I never had. The you I waited for you to become. The you that you aren’t.

Do not get this thing twisted. It is not a comeback to me type of thing. It surely is not a maybe our paths will cross type of deal. Nah kid, our time together is done–you can only provide one out of the three and a half things I will ever require from a man.

This is a get your act together type of thing. This is an I care for you deeply type of thing. This is a you are capable of more type of thing. This is a become the future you type of thing.

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About the author
Marco is a writer, Libra, and lover of popcorn and peanut butter. Follow Marco on Instagram or read more articles from Marco on Thought Catalog.

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