What Happens When I Stop Missing You?

It’s been nearly two weeks since you sent me a message, even longer since I last heard your voice. And I miss you, god do I miss you. You’re still my first thought when I wake up and my last thought before I go to sleep. There are still moments when I am half asleep and reach over to your side of the bed half expecting you to be lying there next to me, and sadness and disappointment fills my heart when I realise you’re not. My heart aches for you, just as it always has; maybe it always will. Maybe you’ll always be a part of me.
I wish I could reach out, call you, hear your voice. I could, but I’m scared it will hurt. I’m scared that you will say something that will break me, or worse, make me miss you more.
I hope that someday I’ll stop counting the days since we last spoke. I hope that I’ll wake up in the morning and it will take hours before I even think of you. I hope that days will pass without your name being mumbled from my lips. I hope that someday I’ll be happy without you.
Without you. Even just saying that hurts. The idea of a life without you scares me more than the idea of missing you forever. Missing you is familiar, I know how it feels, I know how it hurts. But not having you? Forgetting you? That’s what scares me. The idea that we are taught to let go and move on from people who meant the world to us confuses me. You were my world, and maybe that was the problem. I loved you more than anyone, even myself. In loving you, I lost myself, and I’m still trying to find myself again: the person I was before you. Someone told me once that if I was happy before you, I would be able to be happy again after you. But it’s not that simple. It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just erase you. I can’t forget the way you made me feel. These are things I’ll carry around with me forever. I think these are things that I want to carry around forever; I don’t want to forget you or erase you. I just want to stop missing you. But if I stop missing you… then what?

I Would Tell You

Here’s what I would tell you:
– That you fucked up. That you made a mistake when you walked away from us.
– That you’re a coward. You gave up on us because you were too scared and you didn’t try hard enough.
– That you’re selfish. You only think about yourself and you only care about yourself.
– That you’re mean. That you say things that you know will hurt me, but you do it anyway. You’re thoughtless.
– That you avoid things. That you run away and don’t address things. You turn your back on people when it gets difficult.
– You’re an addict. Many times throughout our relationship you chose alcohol and drugs over spending time with me. You have a problem. But you enjoy it too much to admit it.
– That you don’t deserve me. Not for a minute. Not at all. That I’m way too nice to you. I forgive you, for it all, for everything. And that I hate myself for it.
– That I hate myself for loving you. For not being strong enough to walk away. For making excuses for you. For missing you. For wanting someone like you.
– That you will never find someone like me. Someone who loves you unconditionally. No matter what. Always. Someone who was always there for you.
– That one day it will hit you. All of it. And it will hurt. And I hope it does. I hope it tears you apart and brings you to your knees.
– You’ll realise what you lost and what you gave up. And you will hate yourself. You will hate yourself for not fighting for the one person who always fought for you.
– You’ll miss me. You’ll want me back. You’ll regret all of it. You’ll realise that the lifestyle you wanted wasn’t worth losing the one person who loved you.
– That it will be too late. I will be long gone. You will just be a man I once loved. The man I used to kiss in photos. Your name will never leave my lips and your face will never enter my dreams.
– My dreams and my future will be filled with someone new. Someone better. Someone who realised I was the girl worth fighting for.

Empty

There are so many things I would tell you. So many things I would say. But you took my voice away. You made me scared to talk; scared that it would make you leave; scared that if I wanted “too much” you would leave me behind. But I don’t want too much. I never did. I just want you.

I want the talks we used to have. I miss the love we used to share. I don’t want to be your friend, your booty call, your this. I don’t know if I want this. I tell myself I do, because the alternative, of not having you all seems so much harder. Do you love me? Do you still care? How many of the words that slip off your sweet tongue are just used to get in my bed? What goes through your mind when you see our old photos? How do they make you feel? They make me feel sad. I miss the people in those photos. I miss those smiles. I miss the man I fell in love with.

You look like him; the man in our photos. But inside you’re gone. You’re the shell of a man I once loved. And I hold onto you because you remind me of him, and sometimes when we’re alone, you even act like him. You say things he used to say. And it makes me feel like that girl again. The girl in the photo. The one who got lost the day you gave up and walked away. The one that I’m still trying to find.

There are a lot of things I would say to you if we could talk freely. If I wasn’t scared. I’m not really sure what I’m scared of: you walking away, or hearing what you might have to say. I’ve given you everything. Everything I have and more. And you’ve given me nothing, and yet here I stand loving you. The man you once were gave me the world; he gave me his all. But you’re just his shell. Empty. With nothing to give. I know you’re lost. And I know you’re not ready. But what a thing to learn now. What a thing to discover after tasting all you have to offer.

I know you miss me. I can hear it in your voice. In the way you say my name. But you’re a shell. And slowly, I feel you making me more like you. More… empty.
We sit next to each other, as shells of who we use to be. And our relationship, a shell of what it once was. Empty.

At A Loss

I’ve always been really good at explaining how I feel. What I’m thinking. Why I’m hurting. But recently I’ve found myself at a loss for words. The way I’m feeling doesn’t make sense, and the words don’t do it justice. It feels like you were never a part of my life, but at the same time I feel your loss every day. I miss you in songs and jokes and TV shows. I think about you when I wake up and when I go to sleep. But at the same time, it feels like you were never there.

I think back to the memories we had together, and it feels like I’m watching someone else’s life. Like I’m watching a movie. Because those moments couldn’t have been my own. Because the person who made me feel that good couldn’t possibly be the reason that I feel like my world is falling apart. Because the person I fell in love with couldn’t have been the one who broke my heart.

I remember being with you on the beach, in my room, on the roof, and yet it feels so distant. I can’t remember what your voice sounds like, or what it felt like when we kissed. And it feels like we never did.

Are you really the person I shared those memories with? Are you really the person who held me close when I was scared? The one who told me that you’d never abandon me and that you’d always be there? The one who told me that we would get through it all together? It just can’t be.

I don’t know why these memories feel so distant. Why they feel so removed. It doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t make me miss you any less. It’s not a coping mechanism. It just…is. And it leaves me lost. And confused. Because all the memories. The good, the bad, all of them, don’t feel like they’re mine. The photos I look at are foreign to me, because I don’t understand how I could be the girl in the photo, or how the man standing next to me could be you. Because we never loved like that. We never touched like that. Did we?

I know that as time passes, the memories fade. But these memories aren’t fading. They’re there. I remember them like I remember what happened with my favourite couple on my favourite TV show. But I don’t remember them like they were mine. I feel the hurt, the pain, and the heartbreak. But the memories? They’re not mine, they couldn’t be.

I miss you every day. But I don’t even know what I’m missing. I can’t pinpoint what exactly is making me hurt. I don’t know what is lacking. I don’t miss our good memories because it doesn’t feel like they were ours. I don’t know if I miss you because it feels like you were never really around. Like maybe our friendship and our relationship was all a part of my imagination and it never existed. Like you never existed. Like we never did. Maybe I’ve forgotten you. But that’s not what it is. Maybe I can’t understand how the man I fell in love with could turn out to be so cruel, so cold, and so heartless. Maybe my brain can’t understand how those memories could be with you. The first night you told me you loved me, and I thought I had found the one. It doesn’t feel like my memory. But I miss you.

So where does that leave me? Confused. Sad. And at a loss for words.

You may no longer be in my life, but you will always be a part of my memories.

It’s been ages since we talked. Or at least ages for us. We haven’t had a proper conversation since the New Year. It’s been 3 months. 3 months of radio silence; a few words here and there, a few words to pretend that we are friends. But we aren’t. You’ve moved on, and I’m trying to, and each day it gets easier. Don’t get me wrong, I want to reach out to you, I want to say hi, ask how you’re doing, see if you’re happy. I want to hear your voice, hear your laugh, hear you say my nickname. And every time I think of reaching out I stop myself. Talking to you, hearing you, would only set me back. I once thought I couldn’t live without you. I thought it would hurt, I thought it would destroy me. And it did, for a while. But I’m stronger now. And I get stronger each and every day. Seeing pictures of you and her has only pushed me to get over you faster. But you come back to me sometimes, in my memories. Complete unwarranted. I will be sitting in class and a memory will appear to me, more real than ever. You may no longer be in my life, but you will always be a part of my memories. My memories will always keep you present in my life. I’ll think about the day we walked back from town as you chased me, and the way we crashed down into the grass because we couldn’t stop laughing. I’ll remember the time I made you wait outside your door for a surprise but you already knew what it was. I’ll remember the time you brought me M&Ms to the library because you knew I would be studying late and you knew it was my favourite candy. I’ll remember running through Boston with you holding my hand. I’ll remember the time I kicked your ass in bowling. I’ll remember the times you kissed me like you needed me to breathe. I’ll remember your drunk confessions: the nights you told me how much you missed me when we were apart, even if it was only for a weekend. I’ll remember the night you cried. I’ll remember the nights I cried. I’ll remember the goodbyes. As much as I can try to get rid of you, you will always be a part of me, in my memories. You’ll always be my first love. The first I would have done anything for. And I will remember you. You’ll be in my memories. And one day, when I think back on the times we had together I will only smile. I will smile when I think of the happy times we shared, the kisses, the hugs, the laughs. I will smile when I think of you, when I think of our friendship. But I will be sad, sad that we have lost our friendship, sad that we will no longer share any laughs, or late night talks. Sad that we couldn’t salvage the best part of our relationship. Sad that we won’t make any more memories. I miss you most when I walk through my memories. Even when I let you go, you’ll always be here. You’ll always be a part of my memories.