We often miss people. Ones that are especially close to us, people who once were consistent in keeping in touch. They have become a habit somewhat and as time went by and chats became less and lesser, we often find ourselves somewhat in longing to restore the conversations and the moments together. I’ve had people like these. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. I dedicate this post to someone I’ve been missing these past few days and even got to dream about two nights ago.
To you, who have become a habit that is hard to break:
I miss you. There is not a day that went by without me thinking how you have been doing, how I hate being far from you during the times I let you pass through my thoughts, during the moments I sit silently and think back the summers and the seasons we shared.
I consider it an achievement when I go through the day without thinking of you. I lie down on my bed every night and wonder how it is possible to have someone hovering about my thoughts, showing themselves in between the activities of the day, springing up every time there is a familiar song on the stereo, or popping out on Facebook chat and then disappearing along with the millions of bytes speeding to and fro the World Wide Web. Sometimes, I think, you do it on purpose and I wonder, “What in the world do you think you are supposed to get out of doing such thing to me?”
I mean, it is not as grave as I have just describe it to be. You do reply to all of my messages and you just know what I wanted you to say but I miss those moments you’d just pop out on chat when I needed you to–a moment that is of scarcity at this point in time. I do understand that we are living our own lives as I write. You might be already in bed from a tiring Sunday by now.
Isn’t it obvious that I love talking to you? I mean, come on, I often want you to reiterate in detail what has been happening to your life before I talked to you on line. Doesn’t it make you interested to find out why I love talking to you? Do you not love talking to me? Are you that unattached that you do not know the signs of these times? My mind is racing as questions keep popping out.
We are not children anymore. I find that you have grown a lot these past few years apart. By now, I’m pretty sure that you have the means to check in on me.
I just want to hear your stories again. I just want to have that privilege of knowing what things there are in your head. I just want to feel that somehow, I still count, that I still appear in your dreams, that I still bother your thoughts. I just want to talk to you this very moment.
But pride gets in the way, I do not want to be the first one to break the silence. You should do that. Society says that you should do that. Our culture says that you should do that. If I could throw all of those thoughts aside, I would but I kind of believe in what the world says. I kind of believe that there are these invisible rules that we must follow.
I miss you–nothing is more accurate in expressing how I feel this very moment as I finish writing this letter.
I miss you,