I miss you.

Those are tiny words which do zero justice in describing the agonizing churning of my innards. I am incapable of faking joy and the general public has caught on that I’m Not Okay. I’m growing tired of the pep talks, the “You Made The Right Decision” speeches, the misguided attempts at cheering me up. I get through the social obligations only to hurriedly make my way home in order to escape all the Care and Concern.

I don’t want pity and I’m So Sorries. I want solitude. I want the comfort of my space so I can wail for hours into the night, alone and broken. I want The Hurt to FADE but it will not. It digs in its heels, grinding my heart beneath into pulpy slop. I want to fall asleep without tears, to wake up without dread.

I want to wake up Next To You.

I want you. I want your mouth on mine. I want your soft singing when you’re happy, your eyes gleaming with love. I want your hands gently roaming tender along my back. I want all the things we once had but without the bullshit which began tearing us down. I want to hear your voice, hold your hand, touch your face, have you close, FEEL YOU in any and all ways possible and my WANT for all of this is the worst kind of starvation my soul and spirit has ever suffered.

I stop myself again and again from reaching out because I’m told that is the wrong decision to make. It will just hurt you more. And I cannot do that, knowing how much pain has been caused as it is. I know my desire to speak to you is selfish. It is only for me, to quell the ache, lessen the melancholy. Or so I imagine. But then another wave hits and I am very much an angry petulant child who is not getting their way because I can never be what you need me to be and radical acceptance isn’t one of your personality traits. No amount of adult rationale or logic can minimize the paroxysm of my weeping and manic screams of IT ISN’T FAIR.

it isn’t fair.

I miss you. I still love you. None of this is fair.