i've been struggling with this idea of "i miss you" a lot. such a simple statement, i used to understand it. but in your absence, i feel a million different things. i miss you? of course i do. i also miss the not-you, i miss the you from my head, the you from my heart, the you from one, two, three years ago. i miss the you from my journal, the you from my pictures, the you from the frame in the center of my screen. i miss a ding and a pop-up in the corner, i miss a ring and an easy way to spend 3 hours. i miss looking at you, i miss talking to you, i miss my best friend and the boy that i loved. everything i miss is a piece of what i thought you were and you bloom right in the middle, a sapling of truth in a meadow of lies.

if i could miss you and still live happily, i would. but i've chosen to miss you every day this past year. you are my misery, and i need it to be gone.

i'm not sure how to write to you anymore, but something in me still wants to. maybe the act has been a comfort, a constancy i've held onto for the past year and a bit, maybe i'm not ready to let it go yet. it's the only thing i still have a solid grip on. i'm much more familiar with the idea of you being in my life than not. but we're so far apart now. do we even have anything in common anymore? when was the last time we looked at each other? i barely remember your face. i barely remember what it felt like to be your friend. the pictures and words and drawings and sounds are all good reminders, but that’s all they are. reminders, not the real thing. nothing will ever compare to the real thing. it’s gone now, for good. i need to feel it one last time. do you miss it? do you miss the feeling? do you think about me anymore?

what's life been like? i want to ask. i wish you'd tell me.