You used to be my person. You used to be the first text I received when I woke and the last text I received before I slept. And sometimes you were the person I spoke to until the sun rose beyond the clouds again, our words and laughter and tears filling those quiet hours when the rest of the world was asleep.
You knew everything about me, even the things I tried to hide, you knew they were there; you took the time to discover them.
You used to tell me every little detail about your day so that when university ended and our worlds separated again, it felt as if I was right there beside you; you never let me miss a second. Nothing felt like effort back then; we called and we text and we arranged to see each other so the miles between us didn’t feel so long or so painful.
But something changed, I guess.
We grew up and our lives shifted. We found new partners and new homes and new cities. And suddenly, I didn’t know what you had for breakfast or if a cute stranger smiled at you on the train. I was having to fill the silence; I was having to create your side of the conversation.
New homes were left without your presence in them, your side of the bed remained cold and I couldn’t manage an entire pizza by myself. There were too many ‘I can’t make it this time’ and ‘you should come to me again.’ Too many arguments and days spent silently resenting the other. Too many days when we let our stubbornness get in the way of the fact that we just missed each other, we just wanted our old friendship back.
At least I did, at least I thought you did too. But the thing about friendships is that they only work if you both want them to. Dates only get planned if you both make some sacrifices to travel or not get that weekend with your partner, or save up money for it. Texts only happen if you both make the effort to provide the details, if you both take a few minutes just to let the other one in.
Friendships are not one sided.
And sometimes I want to scream at you, to shout, to cry, to say the hurtful things I feel because I miss us, I miss you. I miss those nights when a cup of tea and your voice was the only thing I needed to keep me steady. I miss that laughter which rumbled so loudly out of us both, the kind which made my stomach hurt, the kind that would still have me laughing on the walk home. I miss eating disgusting amounts of food with you knowing that if I wanted extra fries, you always did too.
I miss knowing that a night out with you meant always dancing stupidly and always pretending to be gay if creepy men hit on us. I miss those mornings cuddled up in bed watching Greys Anatomy on a loop and talking about how our friendship was just like Cristina and Merediths’. I miss being your person.
But most of all, I miss feeling like you still care, that you still want to be in my life. I miss feeling like you are prepared to make the effort to see me. I miss feeling like a priority.
Because no matter how long we go without seeing each other, no matter how many times we argue or how many social media posts I have to see where you’ve made that effort to visit other friends, I still can’t shake the image of you from my future. I still can’t stop planning your maid of honour duties or seeing you holding my baby for the first time. I can’t stop thinking that maybe one day we will be the old us again, the version I see glimpses of but fizzles out too quickly.
I can’t stop hoping maybe one day, you’ll be my person again and I’ll be yours.