sleeping but not really

I miss you. It should be simple enough to say it to you. But I can’t, because you’ve cut yourself off from me. No, that wouldn’t be completely true; I just stopped trying, because you don’t care or you don’t want to show me you care. More likely all of this is in my head, but when I stay quiet and try to listen, I don’t hear anything. I understand, but I can’t keep hurting myself any longer, for nothing. Because you aren’t even a friend at this point, all we are is two people who got into each other’s pants and went our separate ways. 

Maybe all you did was make me feel good about myself, and all I did for you was give what you needed then. Just company, it’s all about selfishness for both then. Your fear and my ego, volatile and eager for company, guess it didn’t take much for them to match. All I know is we are both too immature to even try, I tried but in a foolish way. And yet it’s all still bullshit, because we could have tried harder, the right way. But it would have taken two and you let your fear beat you. Just as I have let my fear beat me and I continued to swim against all logic. Because I know your heart, your mind, and that’s why it hurts even more than it should to give up trying.

I miss seeing you walk through the door, brightening up anyone’s day with your endearing smile. It’s really the most common of thing, you know, the one’s you miss the most. Things like hearing about your day, or the funny thing that happened with one of your kids. I don’t regret what I said; I just realize that I said it for all the wrong reasons. And maybe it’s just best to let you fly away, because if what I said was true, this really is the only way to show you.

I know I don’t know everything about you, but I know you. You’ve told me about your hopes, your fears, and dreams; I may be lacking in details but the big picture is clear. I know you’re afraid. Elephants, purple (though I’m not sure, I regret not paying enough attention), H.P., your middle name (did you tell me you shared it with your mom?), music, television (like everyone, reality is a guilty pleasure), and underdogs. Like me. It’s the little things that I’m missing, because we showed each other the blurry edges of ourselves. And it’s those little things that keep me up at night, unable to sleep in an empty bed with only myself, and not you. I guess it’s stupid, because I only had a chance to hold you once, but it was enough to hook me. But not enough, and I’ve just been left wanting, even with the discomforts and annoying little shit, I just want all that shit.

All I know is, even if I never hear your voice, never get to see your beautiful eyes stare straight back at me peering into my soul, and never get to hold your hand with mine; I will never cease to think about all you meant, all you mean to me. Because though we may not be together, I let you into my heart, willingly but I can’t willingly cut you out without losing part of myself. That part that you saw, and liked, hated, appreciated, feared, who knows. I know so little and yet I think I know it all. Because I don’t totally know, maybe all you are is a lesson, a painful one though. 

And after these few and meaningless words, meaningless to what I really feel, I just can’t let it out. Maybe I’ll just have to come back to his every now and then and add a little more. Because I want to believe this story isn’t over, it’s all I can do to carry on; otherwise I don’t know what to do. So I guess this is a “to be continued….”. I don’t know why I don’t send this to you; I guess I’m just realizing you don’t give a shit and I’m the real coward here.