I miss you when it’s late at night and I’m tired or sleepy, and I want someone to cuddle, i want your arms wrapped around me and to crawl into bed and have your scent wrap around me and feel your warmth. I want to hug you to my chest and ask you to stay, don’t go. Stay.
I miss you whenever I see love and adoration. I miss you when I see their PDA or their laughter and I think of your smile and how even if I cause it, I can’t see it, because you’re there and I’m here. I see them smiling and laughing and holding each other and I’m sad, I’m jealous and sad and I wish you were here.
I wish that was us.
I miss you when I’m frustrated. When I’m angry and lost and near tears, when I hug my stuffed animal to my chest and wish it was you and that i could bury my face in your chest or neck and exist on a plane that is only us. Exist on a plane where when I open my arms you come, when you hold out your hand I can grab it.
I miss you when its raining, and I wish that we could watch it together. Cozy up and watch a movie, listen to the sky weep.
I miss you when I’m relaxing, when I’m sitting in my loud as hell chair and watching a show, and I want to tell you everything, complain about the protagonist and her obliviousness, rant about the misogynistic boss. I want to tell you my little thrills, lean over your shoulder and peek at your game or video, poke you with my cold toes, fall asleep on the couch to the sound of your little outrages and victories.
I miss you when I stare out at the night sky, and imagine a future where I can turn over in bed and see you there, asleep, and know that when I wake up, you won’t be gone, and this isn’t a dream.
I miss you when it’s cold outside, when I can see my breath, and I’m shivering, and you’re not here to tell me I should’ve dressed warmer, you're not here to pull the hat off your head and put it on mine, not here so I can protest and try to give it back, chase you down the sidewalk.
I miss you when I see a funny animal or a cool building or a small flower, and I have no one to turn to and say, look!, no one to share my small thrill. Maybe someday I can tell someone, I can tell a friend, but for now, I tell myself, and smile to only myself.
It hurts when you’re happy without me, it hurts when they get to see you and I don’t.
It would hurt so much more if you were struggling, if you were lonely like I.
I know you miss me. I know inside and I see outside that you miss me. My own insecurities only tell me lies, and sometimes they can be mean, and I have to stop and think how hurt I would feel if you thought that kind of thought of me. That is the evil of insecurities.
When I miss you, sometimes it’s fleeting. Sometimes I wish you were here, acknowledge you’re not, and continue my day. Sometimes I tell you I miss you. You always say it back. Sometimes I think and think on what could have been if I was closer to home, and I have some regrets, I do.
But I don’t think I want to be anywhere but here, if I had to choose.
They say long distance is hard. I think it is, and it isn’t.
It’s hard if you stop communicating, if you stop sharing little things.
It’s hard if you stop thinking of each other, exist only in your visible reality.
These are things neither of us do.
But it’s hard when I miss you, when I’m *****, when I long to touch you or listen to you laugh.
It’s hard when I feel the word clingy, when I want to be wanted, when I wish you would miss me and miss me, so that we feel the same. But I don’t want you to hurt, because when you hurt it hurts me. Is that selfish self interest? Perhaps. But it hurts to see or hear you hurt. It hurts to know you’re hurting, and I want to fix it, I want to solve. But I am here, and you are there, and it is your hurt to bear. I can’t take it away or presume to know how to fix it, if it can even be ‘fixed’.
I miss you. That’s really what I came here to say. I miss you.
I hope you miss me too.