Miss You?

Yeah, I miss you. My ears now hollow, once filled with the sounds of your real laugh, every word that was spoken with passion, and the way you sang all your favorite songs. My heart aches so bad because at one time it sang for YOU like that. Did my voice ever captivate you too? I wouldn’t know.

My skin, now afraid to be touched. Longing for your soft kisses and gentle touch: only comparable to a snowflake, quietly melting when it meets my face. Lips sweeter than my favorite dessert. My nose, longing for your floral perfumes that would take me to the middle of a meadow in spring. Were you able to teleport simply by indulging in me too? Your actions say otherwise.

I miss the galaxy in your blue eyes, staring just as deeply back at mine as if we were the only two in the universe. Lethal doses of oxytocin from the security of your arms locked around my waist and head nestled perfectly under my chin. But deep down, anxiety calls my name. Is she being sincere? Am I a fool blinded by lust, giving every last atom of my heart with no reciprocation?

I can’t shake the feeling that you are only staring at somebody I’m not. Only holding so tightly to this false idea of me. Hearing only what you want to hear. Your words, your body, your time all given to somebody who exists only in your mind. How horrible a feeling. I’m not good enough. The person I’ve worked so hard to be, overlooked and thrown away like a diamond mistaken for glass.

Out of the corner of my eye, my notebook. The cover reads “Wonderlust & Wanderlust,” and now covered in dust. Memories flood in. How many situations have those pages helped me through? Every single one of them. Never failed to be there to help clear up my thoughts. Between those lines I can escape yet understand reality. How could I forget? How could this one woman, as great as I think she is, cause me to neglect myself and one of my greatest sources of joy?

I let go, ask her politely to let me be alone, and I dive into the pages and read everything I’ve written thus far. Nostalgia floods in as I hold this generic number 2 pencil. I begin to write, and page after page flows like a reservoir that finally broke through its dam. There’s smoke coming from my pencil, pages are setting fire. I capture my deepest thoughts and concerns, I contemplate why I feel so anxious in this relationship, why fear has taken root where my self-love used to be. The truths I discover are harder to swallow than a bowl of rusty nails with no milk. And at the same time, I’ve never felt better in all my life. With a sigh of relief, I reread what I had written:

“What a deadly feeling it is to fall heart-first into a space next to someone incapable of loving me the way I deserve. And how terrible it is to find it difficult to walk away from such a person.”

“I ignored my intuition telling me how absurd it is to beg for my love reciprocated.”

“How stupid I feel, thinking someone cared for me as much as I did. How stupid it is to make excuses for them for why they chose to not see my beauty, why they chose to not put in the effort I did.”

“She never encouraged me to do what I love.”

“The anxiety sunk in when I realized I had to shrink myself to make her more comfortable. It sunk in more when I had to desperately search for her authenticity and couldn’t accept never being able to find it.”

“I gave her every ounce of my love, and she took it like a hot desert takes water, with nothing in return but harsh lessons.”

“et cetera…”

I could write 100 more paragraphs of the words I wrote that day. But the main message I found myself was to listen to my intuition, be my true self, love myself in the way I choose to love others, and never settle for anyone who makes me become less than I already am. She may be gone, but the lessons will always remain. I used to be afraid of losing her. Now I’m more afraid of losing myself by staying in something that’s not right.

So, do I still miss you? I miss certain things, sure. Nothing that I couldn’t get from someone else. You chose not to see my beauty, or the light I offered. You never tried dancing with my demons. I lost a rose in a field of roses, I’m looking for that one sunflower standing proud within that field.

My world was fine before you and it’ll be fine without. I can’t thank you enough, I am back perfecting my art, this time with a whole truckload full of new inspiration.