“I miss you.” The three words I could never find myself to say to you. It wasn’t the braveness I was lacking, but the confidence in the possibility that you would miss me too, or even care that I had come to think of you. We were always off an on; we were the worst type of people to be together. I, the girl, who found herself desperate for commitment and you, the boy, who only wanted to have fun, no strings attached. We kept up our routine for nearly a year and it just felt so comfortable to be with you, but there was still a part of me that wanted more. When I realized I wasn’t going to get it, I decided it was time to take myself out of the equation; though being with you was the happiest I ever found myself, it was also torture to not be able to move forward with you.

So for the next two years I went in and out of relationships. Some of them were decent enough, but it always felt like something was lacking. I hated myself for always comparing a new one to you, but it happened every time; they don’t kiss me like you do, they don’t hold me like you do, they don’t fuck me like you do. Finally, I have built up enough courage to meet up with you for coffee; an innocent enough date, I thought. Once I saw you sitting at the table, waiting for me, that smile melted me so easily, just as it used to. You pull me into a hug and tell me, “I missed you so much.”

 

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