I want to hate you. I really do. I want to hate you and never want to talk to you again, but instead I settle for having bits and pieces of you until someone else gets your attention.
I got used to it. I got used to seeing your face and feeling your arms wrapped around me. To hearing your voice in the morning and in the evenings. To getting excited for the time I was going to see you again.
You took that all away. And I am not angry. I am disappointed — in you for leaving and in me for trusting you.
It’s so much easier to be sexual than intimate, right? To be familiar but pretend we didn’t plan ahead in our lives. How I crave for us to be nothing but two humans who fell in and out of each other’s lives, without rhyme or reason. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
We were the rose that grew from the concrete. We were simple and easy and probably too good to be true. We told each other secrets, dreams and fears. We watched the moon and dreamed to the stars. I prayed for your dreams to manifest, as much as I dreamt that I’d get to watch it all by your side.
What now? Do we just un-know each other now? Do we forget the intimate moments — the stories, the echoing laughter on a Sunday afternoon? Do you think about these things?
I miss you. I miss the refreshing feeling I got after I heard you laugh. I miss someone understanding what I meant when I said “my mind is attacking me” and knowing how to help me out of it. All of these things are replaceable, yes, but I wasn’t in the market to replace them.
I still wish for you to be well. I think about your wellbeing more than I care to admit. I want you to be happy, and although right now it’s painful to say, I want you to find your backbone. You are so much more than what you believe your weaknesses are. I am rooting for you from the sidelines and look forward to crossing paths one day.
I could’ve loved you, but that wasn’t why we were placed in each other’s lives. One day we will laugh at our story. At how we almost fell in love.