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Sunday, March 13, 2016

Tu Me Manques

Missing you is a beautiful sort of tragedy.  I consider myself lucky to miss you, because it means that for a moment in time I didn't miss you at all.  I didn't have to miss you, because I could grab your hand and curl up beside you whenever I wanted to.  I could call you excitedly to tell you the best news, or call you crying to tell you the worst.  Missing you is knowing I can't, but wanting to anyways.

It's reaching for the phone when I got accepted to my dream school, before remembering that you wouldn't care.  It's forgetting the rhythm to my favorite song but remembering all the words and not knowing how to string them together.  It's like dropping a lucky penny in the ocean, and knowing I will never get it back again, no matter how hard I try.  It's wondering if I'll always remember you and you've already forgotten about me.  It's having a million words to say but knowing I will never hear them come out of my mouth.

I don't remember the last time I heard you say my name. You used to whisper my name, or say it with a smile in your voice.  My name used to have meaning as it rolled off your tongue.  Now I wonder when the last time you heard or spoke my name was.  I wonder how it would sound if I heard you say it now.

Missing you is the loudest silence in the world.  Do you remember all those football games, and how the stadium would fill with cheers, laughter, and shouts into the night?  Do you remember how it would sound after everyone would clear out to go party, and you and I would sit alone in the stands?  Do you remember how heavy the air felt, with the noises of the people already gone?  That's what missing you is like.

Missing you is like waking up from a dream.  Do you remember waking up from the most amazing dream only to realize that none of it was real?  Do you remember the sigh of disappointment you'd let out before flipping your pillow over and shutting your eyes?  Do you remember how you couldn't keep your eyes shut for long, because your mind would wander back to your perfect, vivid dream?  That's what missing you is like.

Do you remember me?  Do you ever think of how I must miss you, or do you think I don't miss you at all?

Do you remember how I liked the raw cookie dough more than the actual cookie, and how I could never fall asleep before one in the morning?  Do you remember how loopy my handwriting would become when I was in a rush, or how I wanted to jump on the first airplane to Europe?

Do you remember how I said I was scared of sharks and small spaces... and do you remember how I said more than anything, I was scared of losing the people I love?  My greatest fear was to lose everyone that meant something to me.  Do you remember when I told you that?
Missing you isn't the sort of sadness that dissolves with time.  It is the sadness that settles in your heart and your whole body and never leaves, no matter how much time goes by.

Missing you is wishing upon every shooting star that maybe one day you'll come back around.  Maybe next year, or maybe in ten years.  Missing you is the fear that you'll show up when I'm standing under the alter, about to marry someone else.  It's not being able to decide what would hurt more- if you showed up at my wedding and didn't say a thing, or if you said you missed me too.  It's the fear that if you showed up and said you missed me, I would leave behind someone I was about to read vows to just for one more chance.  Missing you is knowing that I would give everything up for one more moment to exist with you.

And sometimes I swear... while I lay awake at three in the morning, or as I drive on a rainy afternoon.  I swear... as I sit in front of the fire, or look up at the sparkling constellations.  I swear... as I laugh with my friends or drink a cup of coffee.  I swear... as I sit in the sun or take a bubble bath.  I swear... as I open presents on Christmas morning or blow out the candles on my birthday cake.  I swear.  I swear that I will miss you forever.  And I think I'm okay with that, no matter how much I wish I wasn't.  And sometimes I swear you must miss me too.  Until next time xxx.

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