I miss you.
Three little words are all I have to say. I miss who you were to me. I miss what we were. I miss what we were going to be. I miss the comfortable easy way we could be around each other. I miss having someone who knew everything about me. I didn’t have to explain or shield anything. I miss the silent dance in the kitchen, chopping, preparing, cooking, never missing a beat, never in each other’s way, no words needed- just flowing with our rhythm. I miss sliding into your arm, head on your chest, like a puzzle-piece-perfect fit. I miss our home. I miss your family. I miss how you made me laugh.
I don’t miss the way you treated me: the way you made me feel guilty and indebted to you when I didn’t want to have sex, the way I never felt like enough and never felt like I deserved you. I don’t miss the lies and the betrayal. I don’t miss the lack of trust. I don’t miss the games and the tests. I don’t miss the anxiety of wondering when you were going to stop loving me or if you already had. I don’t miss how you shut down and pretended my depression wasn’t real. I don’t miss how you never told me I was beautiful. I don’t miss how you never wanted to kiss me. I don’t miss you telling me I wasn’t worth it.
I miss you though, and I’m just not allowed to say it.