I miss you a little more now — ever since our brief interaction two nights ago, albeit devoid of conversation, just your presence alone fueled my love with insatiable yearning.
I miss your overdosed cologne and numerous hair products sprawled across the floor. I miss the way you honked at me when parked outside my driveway, being the very epitome of freedom I had from my parents’ dull abode.
I miss the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you had a chance to speak about your favorite video game, the way you bit the inside of your cheek when nervous.
I miss these little things about you that make you, you. I think our friendship can return to normal one day, I believe that fate has a plan for us — that we will align with one another and cross paths once again.
Albeit a romantic relationship would be in my favor, I wouldn’t mind you in my life as just friends — maybe it would give me the opportunity to truly understand and appreciate you in a non-romantic light. Like the character of Light Yagami almost; I hope I can learn to value your importance in my life, despite my own personal virtues and shortcomings.
I hope one day I can lay down with you by the beach, watching as I see you enamored by creating a sand castle as the sun goes down.
i wish for a beach proposal, with red rose petals scattered across the sand in an adorned area.
The feeling of pure etascy would be ubiquitous, as you and I would smile in the darkening light as you smiled and asked for my eternal hand in marriage.
I return to my dull, autonomous lifestyle — limited to any romantic or external pleasure, bound to my sewing machine and 1780 television as I watch re-runs of the anime Prince of Tennis, with a table filled with newly re-homed threads bought in a frenzy from the now closed Joann’s.
But on the fantasy side, I dream of us being newly weds, celebrating our honeymoon in the coast of Australia — back to the mainland we’ve both grown to love and respect. I would show you the pleasures of Brisbane, and we’d travel amongst Australia Zoo as we delve into the exhilarating past of the Irwins.
Perhaps this would happen. Perhaps you and I would rush to the nearest hotel room, like a Hard Rock Cafe in Tampa, Florida — eagerly swiping our hotel room card as you push up my skirt.
In another life, you and I both took opposite corners of a tiny bedroom, painting the monotonous walls blue and white as we expect a newborn son.
Maybe this could happen one day, if there was any possibility, then you know where I am.
There is no need for me to wait for someone who knows exactly where to find me.
