I’m terrified of turning 21
I wonder what you think of me.
I hope you miss me,
Want to talk to me too.
I hope you think I’m pathetic.
I hope you know I’m better
I know we’re better apart.
I’m desperate to close the chapter again, have the “get a coffee and talk things over, just to stay no contact after” moment.
We end up in the same places, just not at the same time.
I wonder if that’s on purpose.
I miss you when I’m alone. When I have nothing but fond memories.
I hate your name when I’m well. When I’m with people and a thought of you comes up. When I see your interest on my mundane target runs with my partner.
I miss you

















