sjsprWriting

I didn't necessarily think I'd miss you.

Need you.

Think of you.

And now I'm pretty much withering away, along with the previous, idealized thoughts of our happiness.

All I feel is regret.

Maybe I said the wrong thing.

Touched the wrong place in your already sinking heart.

Maybe I thought too much, and spoke too little.

I always assured you that I was fine. "I'm just awkward," I'd say, with a crack in the back of my throat, disguised as a nervous laugh.

You'd smile.

You'd force it, at least.

I didn't know how to say this back then. I didn't know how to tell you that I was aching to feel what I had felt before. I was too focused on impressing you.

Much less on actually being happy.

Calming down.

Transporting myself to our previously disastrous wonders that never seemed to displease me even at their worst.

I was too focused on being interesting.

Much less on being myself.

Reserved but outspoken.

Opinionated but wildly funny.

No. I was another person. A person I thought you'd like.

And I slid away upon noticing how my facade was slowly failing me. You noticed. You noticed and you didn't say a word.

You played along even when you were dying to tell me to stop. "I love you for you." I knew you'd want to say that, but I didn't let you.

I didn't think I'd miss you.

I thought I would be fine with the fact that you didn't like me. Or that elusive concept I had conceived as being me.

I thought I'd be fine pretending to be fine.

I was certain that I would find it easy to move on.

One step forward.

But now I yearn.

I yearn for your words.

They haven't found their way yet, I suppose. My disclosed ears are starting to hurt. And I only want for your words to cause them more pain.

Your words.

Your distant words.

"I loved you for you. Where did you go?"