With the rain falling softly, and music playing in the background, I miss you.
I miss your smile, your strong hand. I miss talking to you, knowing that the next whatsapp could be yours. I miss the anticipation, that flutter of anxiety as I pretended to be caught up in work. I miss your smell, even though you never wanted to wear cologne cause your ‘natural smell’ is ‘so much better’. I miss your thick curls, that hipster haircut. Your sweetness.
Then I remember everything I didn’t like. I didn’t like how I felt so anxious, wondering if you were just playing me, if there were other women, if I was just one of the many. I didn’t like how you didn’t put in the effort to meet me. How we didn’t even try to make things work, cause you didn’t want commitment. How you expected me to commit when you didn’t want to. How you made me cry the second day after we started getting involved. How you didn’t like being romantic. How you always, Always talked about your exes… I didn’t like how you didn’t try to keep our ‘friendship’ after I said we shouldn’t be friends anymore. I didn’t like how I didn’t feel special enough. I didn’t like how I wasn’t important enough to you. I didn’t like how I liked you more. I didn’t like being on the losing end.
But all these don’t matter. When the sky is pregnant with clouds of despair and the angels weep tears of pity, all I want is your embrace. All I can think about are the brief moments of bliss. Knowing that I had someone who thought I was worth enough effort to text everyday. Even if the truth is that all you said and did was a lie to appease me, denial made it so sweet. So bittersweet.
I miss that. I hate you, but I miss you. And I hate you all the more for that. Beyond that, I hate myself for missing you, for being so weak and wanting you back when I’ve already decided I should move on. My mistake in getting involved with you still haunts me. I should have made a better decision, I should have stayed away. Now I’m tainted, and disgusted with myself. And I miss you.