It's strange, but I miss missing you.
I miss thinking about you every hour of every day, and long into the night. I miss the way I used to see you in everything, and how it made me feel to think about you. I miss the feeling of wanting you to miss me.
I miss the feeling of wanting you.
It was easier before you knew what I am. As long as you didn’t know, I could pretend that we had a future together; I could pretend that you wanted the future I wanted.
Things are different now, now that you know what I am. I don’t get to pretend anymore. All I am left with is the reality that it is not you and me, it is not we; it is me, alone. We’re still friends, or at least we are meant to still be friends, but the drive and passion to keep us together doesn’t seem to exist anymore. The fact of the two of us seems to have dried out into a dying version of what we wanted it to be. Or what I wanted it to be. I thought that you wanted us to be something, too, but now I doubt that. Every hour of every day, and long into the night. I miss wanting to pretend.
I suppose things change when you realize you don’t need someone.
The way you don’t need me.
It took me a long time to realize that I don’t need you either.
And strangely, I miss needing you.
I wonder if you ever miss that, too.
Author Notes: I wrote this a little over a month ago, when I was thinking about somebody. I don't really feel this as much anymore, but I figure it's decent writing that someone out there might relate to, so here it is.