I miss you. I miss the laughter and light-hearted banter. The car rides and sing-a-longs. The rolling of eyes and completing of sentences. I miss how easy it was with you.
It’s funny how the moment we said we’d be friends forever our friendship died. It saw the future before we ever could. My fingers tire of placing blame – on you, on me, on them. We both could have tried harder; but we didn’t and here we are.
Much as I miss you, I don’t miss the person I was when I was with you. The one who let you get away with being an ass for so long. The one who didn’t tell you that you’re supposed to fight for the people you care about, and not give up when you think they’re apathetic towards you. The one who let you into a place most sacred and never said how much it broke her.
If love was supposed to be convenient, it would end when friendships end. But real love never ends and I am resigned to loving you for as long as my chest rises and falls. We may never speak again, and still I’ll love you.
Yet amidst the loving and missing, I want you to hurt as much as you’ve hurt me. Somehow, I don’t believe you’ll change until you are truly miserable. You’ve been let off the hook too quickly, too frequently. And I think that hook needs time to sink in, make its mark, leave a scar.
So thank God that I’m not Him. Because I miss you, and I love you, but I hope you are miserable wherever you may be.