It’s been some time, isn’t it?
Well it’s not that long, to tell you truth. Not if you actually count the months since we last met or since our constant conversation comes to a halt. But time is relative and it tick slower without you around. Maybe I just miss you too much, because I’m sappy like that.
You know, back then I did predicted that one day you would disappear without a warning. But I never thought it would actually happened. Not this soon, at least. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it’s just stopped. From nonstop exchange of thoughts and daily events, it went straight into unreplied messages and days of not talking. From as-easy-as-breathing conversation, it turned into fear of being a nuisance unless I’m going to talk about something important.
It took a lot of efforts and times – as expected – but I’m coming to terms with thing. Accepting that people drift apart as time pass and our friendship does have an expiration date. Understanding that maybe it’s better off this way because it will never work anyway – although I wish it hadn’t hurt as much. Yet I do have to admit that I have developed the habit of chatting with multiple people at once, everyday, to make up for your absence. It does little to lessen the dull ache of not seeing your name flashing on my notification tab, but hey, I’m coping.
I still miss you, though.
I miss talking to you and listening to your stories. I miss talking about nothing in particular that would somehow led to a serious discussion about life. I miss exchanging our works and hearing your input about my writing. I miss having you asking about me and my day, and I surely miss our routine of good morning and good night.
And then it sort of clicked, you know?
I miss you, yes. But more than anything, I miss having someone that care, that sincerely listen and pay attention to me. I miss feeling like I’m being taken care of, that someone is actually worrying about my well being and safety. I miss feeling like my opinion means something, that I am an important part of someone else’s life, and that I am mattered.
Oh, I know it’s selfish and I sounded like a spoiled brat. I know that I am an important part of my friends’ life, and that my family is always trying to ensure my well being. I know I mattered a great deal for certain people – as arrogant as that sounds.
But hey, everyone needs comfort. And your constant presence, darling, reassure me that I am not alone.
So I suppose, I miss you because your sudden disappearance upset my routine and left me feeling like I’m trying to float through surging waves with nothing to hold on to.
Dear darling, I miss our exchange of emotional support. But I’m happy to see you busy and moving on with your life, and I’m swelling with pride when I see you thrive and gain confidence in yourself and your skills.
Because even if you’re not around, and if there’s anything that your disappearance had taught me – aside from unpredictable expiration date – is that I still have others to be there for me. I have other people to talk and write with, and with them I can discuss stuffs that would be weird to talk to you about – namely my newest crush-slash-summer-fling.
After all, my life does not revolve only around you – or maybe the balance has shifted. I am settling down in a new place and I’m developing a new routine – one that for the most part doesn’t involve you. Not my fault you weren’t there to take part.
Beside, I actually have fun here – although my definition of fun probably differs from others. I don’t need to go with large group of people to club and parties, I don’t need to always be a part of the crowd. I’m content with the small group of friends that I had. The boys have been such a noisy but nevertheless delightful company, you see, and I’m working on being amicable with the other kids.
Most importantly, I suppose I’ve come to see that it wasn’t love after all – although it sure damn well feel like it. It was just me, greedy for more of the attention and affection that you just so happened to give.
It was just me, exploiting your kindness and sweet words to satiate my incessant needs to be taken care of.
À la mort,
The girl with Cinderella Complex