I miss you. I miss you and all I want to do is confess that I ache for you. I wake up missing you every morning and every morning a subtle shock of silence runs through my veins as I remember. I live with an overwhelming sense of sadness, an all-consuming lingering feeling of a love story that isn’t supposed to be this way. You would think, of course I miss you because you are so far away, but it’s not the distance it’s the change in our behavior. It’s the reality of a situation that is ending for no other reason than distance.
I know that technically we aren’t done and technically I could tell you I miss you. You would likely respond that you do as well, but I can’t tell you I miss you. I don’t know how we got to the place we were in. We rushed into a situation that could never have been sustained yet I find myself tragically heartbroken by the undoing of what we were.
We weren’t perfect, we were something undeniable.
You’re not perfect, but nobody makes me feel entirely myself like you do Two best friends turned into lovers, but we are so similar in tendencies. We avoid commitments for different reasons, but share similar emotional imbalances. You’re afraid of commitment because you don’t want to be held responsible for anything and I am afraid of wasted time with the wrong person. Sometimes you are my person, but mostly you are not.
I never thought I would genuinely miss our conversations or that I would be nervously thinking about what you are doing in your spare time. I never thought I would care, but here I am caring and I don’t want to stop caring.
Everyone says I need to focus on what is here and I know you are focusing on what is there. I am going through the motions and ultimately I am sure, in time, that I will find something worth focusing on here, but a huge part of me won’t let what we have go. I know why everything is like this. I get it and understand that we couldn’t sustain what we are from so far away. Perhaps we let ourselves get ahead of what was realistic, but it didn’t happen for no reason.
If I move on, which will inevitably happen, will we ever find this feeling again? I don’t know. My excuse is that I am young and don’t need something serious, but I just don’t want to let you go. I know that if I move on, which will happen any day now, we will never spend another night holding each other despite both of our strong opposition to the concept of cuddling. Never again will you see the slight smile as I look into your eyes. Never again will I feel the comfort of being held by someone who cares for me based solely on my personality.
You know me and I am afraid of giving that up.
We are going to move on. We are going to give up a great love, an unfinished love and settle for the tragic shortcomings of casual sex with humans whom we scarcely value. I don’t know if you love me because you have never said it, but I know that if there wasn’t 3,000 miles of distance, the two of us would light up the sky.
We never will.