As I go through this change in my life, a turning point around corners I’ve never seen before, I sit and think about how much I miss you. They say it’s normal that I’m missing you, but it almost doesn’t make sense. There was a relief that took place inside of me (after the breakdown) when you told me you didn’t want to be with me, nor my friend, not even around me. It was as if I was contaminating your world. And yet I felt my chest loosen. I’m self- conscious enough on my own without having to wonder if I’m offending you, making you feel uncomfortable, turning you off. It was like all the effort I had put forth thus far to be a better person was all a facade. It wasn’t real. I was merely a sarcastic, judgemental asshole. This is how I felt I was being perceived. Wow. So what exactly am I missing? Could it possibly the anticipation to that good morning text or the phone call that took place just to see how my day went? Could it be the way you embraced me and pulled me close as if my presence comforted you? It’s probably the way you respected me now matter how bad the situation was. The way my smile made you smile which caused me to smile harder. I’m sure the way you made me feel important and as if I mattered when I couldn’t find that in other places has something to do with it. I miss the hope you gave me that good men still exist outside my brothers and cousins. Not only do they exist but they are not all taken. I miss the pleasure of feeling wanted. The daydreams that actually included a face and name instead of “somebody”. I miss the laughs, the hugs, the kisses. I miss the good times with you.
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