The Ugly Truth about Letting Go

16th May 2018

Back when we were trapped inside our almost relationship that should have became something but never did, I hated your mixed signals. I wished you would have been straightforward with me so I didn’t have to pull answers out of you. I hated waiting for your texts. Waiting for you making schedule to come over. Waiting for attention. Waiting for you to like me back.

But now that you’re gone, I miss everything about you. Even the mixed signals.

I miss the nights when I sat cross-legged on the bed, phone plugged into the wall, my fingers tapping out messages to you. I miss the nerves that shot through my veins whenever you took too long to answer me and I was stuck wondering whether I screwed up, whether I said something too flirtatious or too sarcastic or too boring.

I miss the anticipation of wondering whether you were going to pay attention to me on any given day or whether you were going to leave me disappointed. I miss the drumbeat in my stomach, warning me not to grow too attached to you even though I knew it was already too late, I was already smitten.

I miss your mixed signals because I miss having something to be excited about, something to look forward to throughout the entire week. I miss the feeling of my heart beating hard inside my throat. I miss the uncertainty of whether you would flirt back with me — because whenever you did, my day was made. Whenever you did, I felt like all of the stress had been worth it, just for that moment with you.

I miss feeling. I miss when this numbness, this antiseptic on my heart, was eclipsed by emotion. I miss the highs and the lows because they made me feel alive. Back when we were together — if that’s even the right word — each breath felt like I was gulping down air and now those same breaths feel like I’m sipping in static. Like I’m just going through the motions. Like I am existing instead of erupting.

I miss having something, someone, to care about more than myself. I miss the irrationality of my feelings. I miss the intensity of small actions like holding your hand or hugging your waist or smelling the scent of your cologne.

I miss you. I miss the way you kept me guessing. I miss how I could never tell exactly what was running through your mind. I miss being surprised. Everything you said was unexpected. No words were pre-planned. You were spontaneous. You were shocking. You were different in a world overflowing with same.

I miss memories that I have no business missing. Toxic ones. Ones where you Ignoring me, made me cry, made me complain, made me secretly hate myself. I shouldn’t miss those moments but I do because I must have really liked you to have those kind of reactions.

I miss your missed signals because at least they were something. 

They were better than this silence. This absence. This hole that you have drilled into my concrete heart.