I hadn’t talked to you in weeks. Then you came at me with all this I miss you shit. okay, you miss me; If you hadn’t had said something I would never have known because we hadn’t talked in a few weeks. I’m not needy or anything and I know you can’t answer my texts, but fb message me or something just to tell me you got them. But no, we just kept going on with our busy lives and I stopped texting. It was pointless at that point, talking to a brick wall and all. Well, well.. then when we hadn’t spoken for a few weeks you pull all this bull about how you miss me, just when I’m home on spring break and susceptible to loneliness. I caved and gave you my time of day, but then the conversation just becomes a series of lulls and prodding questions from me to try to get a conversation flowing. How can you say you miss me so, and then just have nothing else to say. okay.
So we have been doing this: “Hey. Hey. How are you? How are you?” dance for the past week. Part of me honestly doesn’t care enough anymore to keep the conversation going. We sit in silence and I forget you are online. woops.
My days have become so busy that I hardly think of you, that is, until I see some grossly adorable couple walking around campus holding hands. Or I see that same couple that sits in the student center on Tuesday mornings, not saying much verbally, but you can tell then are having an intense conversation just with their eyes.
Only a few songs make me think of you now, compared to every other one that I used to hear. But when I do get reminded of you, it hits me hard. I get swept away by the memories from those nights. All the little details are so vivid that it seems so real. I can still hear your beautiful accent playing like a record while I try to fall asleep. I can still see your eyes looking through mine into my soul. I can feel your fingers between the empty spaces between my own. I can feel your warm whispers in my ear that send shivers up my spine. I can taste your kisses on my lips and feel your scruff rubbing against my cheeks as you kiss my neck. But the one thing missing, one of the most important things, is the butterflies. Where did they disappear to?
Most of the time I wonder if it is really you I miss, or the idea of you. We always talk about the next time we see each other, but is it all just talk? Do I even want to see you again? Most of the time you frustrate me and make me furious; but all I know for sure right now is that I still can’t seem to take your picture down from above my bed.
