Anger

I’m angry with you. I know I haven’t earned that right but this anger bubbles and steams within me anyways. I know I haven’t earned that right because I understand why you did it and yet it makes me angrier because things weren’t meant to be like this.

And if you were here, I would show you my anger. Maybe I’d yell. Maybe I’d stomp my feet like a kid. Maybe we’d argue or fight. At least the breaking of our friendship would mean the life within you was here to stay.

But I’m here and you’re so far away my lungs would collapse before you heard my cries. So I choke down my sobs and lay on this couch in this lonely home that echoes of your absence.

I wish I could fix it all. If I could give you a gift that would make you forget the pain for even a second. That would make you see the small things do matter. That I can’t give you the world but I can give you a million smaller moments that I would love to share with you now and forever. Moments that would transcend the space and time that would inevitably force us apart.

But the unknown of your future has brought greater distance than I had planned for.

And as I sit here, all I can think of is the emptiness of these walls without your larger-than-life personality. Even my anger is a pathetic flicker in this sudden realization and all I can say is please just come home.