SO. MUCH. FEELS.
You’re gonna miss the way I told you everything about how my day went, even if we weren’t supposed to make diaries out of human beings. You’re gonna miss how my voice turns three octaves higher when I call to tell you about the dog I see, or the art I I found while scrolling in Tumblr. You’re gonna miss the way I easily spilled my thoughts to you, even when I can’t even voice them out to myself.
You’re gonna miss the way I sent you derp and sexy pictures every time I craved you. You’re gonna miss the way I tagged you in memes and message you with lyric videos and pdf’s of my favorite books even if you respond with “Gonna check it out later”, and you don’t. You’re gonna miss the way I bared myself with my clothes on, the way I tried to fill the void in me just so you won’t get suck into the vacuum.
You’re gonna miss the way I let you talk to my brother and friends over the phone, the way I sneaked my gadget at school even if they weren’t allowed, just so I could talk to you. You’re gonna miss the way I showed my love, not just in texting, but in the scrapbooks I made for your birthday, even when I wasn’t a crafty person. You’re gonna miss it when you open that dusty box under your bed after your new girl said she wanted to a spring clean, ‘cause that’s what couples do, right?’
You’re gonna miss the way I abandoned my blades and bottles and cigarettes because you didn’t like them. You’re gonna miss the way I walked under the rain to your home, but your windows remain closed cause fuck it, you were mad. You’re gonna miss the way I made you feel so loved and wanted even if it depleted me, the way I sent you ignored messages and made calls that were missed cause I didn’t want unresolved fights. You’re gonna miss the way that I, an atheist, tried to fucking pray for you, the way I held onto your closed fists every time you walked out that door. You’re gonna miss it, cause I know she’s not the type to do all that.
You’re gonna miss the way I sang your favorite love songs when we were in bed, even when they weren’t really my cup. You’re gonna miss the way I tried to write one for you, and probably ten more poetries, even when all you deserved were inkless pens and crumpled papers. You’re gonna miss the way I chose to stick with you after each pushing away. You’re gonna miss the way I chose to stay with you, and chose my love for you even when you weren’t very lovable. You’re gonna miss the way I believed that it will be us in the end, and oh, you’re gonna miss how badly I wanted that.
You’re gonna miss it all, because you’ve lost them. You’re gonna miss it all, because after 28 months, they’re now gone. Gone are our poems, and our staying-up-lates, and your cringey love songs and your voice messages, and your naughty selfies. Gone are our Spiderman kisses, and our private jokes, and your quirks, and your half-hearted love letters, and your number. You’re gonna miss it all ㅡ the daydreamt little blue contemporary house, and the future daughters named Ashe and Jessica, and the bucket lists that contained making love by the sea, and walking in the city from 8 pm to 6 am, and the movies we said we’d watch together, and the rings we’ll never get, and the vows we’ll never speak.
I bet you’re lying in bed right now, with the girlfriend you got three months after our breakup. And a little something in me hopes that those realizations come blasting at you like water from a fire hose. You’re gonna miss the way that it was me that laid on your chest, and that it was my fingers that were brushing your hair, and that it was my heartbeat that you can hear. And you’ll find yourself thinking of me and longing and regrets, a combination you never thought would be wrapped into one. You’re gonna miss them all, and you’ll sit up, and she’ll ask you what’s wrong, and you’ll say nothing, and you’ll get out of bed and stay in the balcony. And there, all you’ll ever think about is how you miss us so damn much, and how the world once spun for us. All you’ll think about is missing me.
And I won’t. I won’t miss you; not anymore, cause I’ve spent years missing you even when you were still here. I won’t miss you anymore cause I’ve outgrown the wanting for your so-called love; I’ve outran the me that always runs back to you. I won’t miss you anymore, cause simply, you’re not worth me feeling that way. All I’ll miss is that pasta I haven’t got the chance to eat because you hated that restaurant. All I’ll miss is the feelings of rush from Ferris wheels we never rode because you were too scared of heights. All I’ll miss is the hands that I let go, because I reached for yours, all the words I blocked, because I called for you, and all the hearts I broke trying to keep yours whole. And mostly, it was my heart I’m talking about.
Cause you know what? If there’s something worth missing here, it’s not you. It’s the me who wasn’t terrified of love and being left. It’s the whole me before I tore myself in half for you, it’s the me in gray before you sprinkled me with blue. It’s the me who was gentle, and kind, and soft with herself ㅡ the me that knew self-love before she was consumed by yours.
If there’s something worth missing here, it’s nobody else but myself. If there’s something worth missing here, it was me.
Before I had lost her to you.
ㅡ Fray Narte, “You’re gonna miss it all”