"I miss you."
Those three words were the first thing I whispered when I opened my eyes to the world this morning. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling, like it had all the answers I needed. Like there's going to be the slightest chiaroscuro of your face staring back at me from the ceiling. The room smelled like you. That soft, warm scent of masculinity you always carried around. That scent I could tell from a distance of your presence. I don’t even know how that was possible. Because you’ve been gone from me for years.
The breeze outside is sneaking into the house through the fluttering curtains. They have whispers of my loneliness with them. I had intentionally left it open last night, even though I knew how you used to complain about it. I had hoped that somehow you'd walk in, just in case you returned home while I slept. But you never came.
I slammed my feet hard on the floor. Trying to feel the earth just the way you did before slipping them into my flip flops. Then I walked to the wardrobe where you had left some of your clothes.
I pulled on your old shirt, the grey one with the loose thread on the collar. It still had your smell on it. You had worn it on that night when we danced in the rain. I can still remember the joy in our hearts and the smile on your face. We didn't care about anything other than ourselves, in the stillness of that night. I can still remember how you kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered.
Till today, I still feel your breath and the pressure of your lips against mine when I close my eyes. A memory I don't want to forget.
Every day, I make coffee for two. Making sure yours has a splash of milk and too much sugar. Just the way you like it. I really don’t know why. I've tried to get myself to stop, but I can't stop. I don't want to. It's a ritual I want to be faithful to.
Just like when we will sit by the window and watch the neighbors pass by. Watching the woman with a baby strapped to her back. And the old lady with the walking stick. We will make silly jokes about them, and we'll laugh till our ribs hurt and our eyes tear. That was how sweet it was with you. Making me laugh even on my worst days.
But these days, my laughter is nowhere to be found. It doesn’t come easily anymore. It's all like a figment of my mind. I miss it. I miss you.
I walk around my apartment every day like a ghost lost between the real world and the spirit world. I wish I could go back to the days when everything was perfect. When everything was real. When I don't have to live on the memories anymore, but live in reality. In reality, that your shoes by the door meant you were home. In reality that your half-read book on the nightstand meant you weren't done reading.
You had scribbled me a tiny note and pinned it on the fridge: “Back in five.” it read.
But I waited for you for hours. And you never came back.
I reported it to the police. We searched for you. I swear, I searched the whole world looking for you. But it was as if you never existed.
People began gossiping that I was crazy. My friends said I needed to let go. They said I was losing myself, my mind.
“You need to move on,” Sarah had told me last week. I could tell from her voice that she was tired of me talking about you all the time.
Trust me, I didn't listen to her. Instead, I threw her out. Who is she to tell me how to mourn your disappearance?
Well, I don't really blame her. She never saw the way you looked at me. Or felt your fingers trace my spine at midnight. She's never heard promises whispered into her skin in the dark with nothing on our bodies but just our skin against each other. She never felt the pleasure of your kiss early in the morning.
I'd have preferred to live in the memories all my life.
Not until last week. I had gone on a business retreat in another state. Lost in thought but trying to gather myself and build a life you'd have loved for me.
Standing by my hotel window and staring into the open that morning.
Then I saw you.
Across the street.
Laughing.
Holding someone else's hand.
Someone who wasn't me. That didn't look like me or laugh like me.
Yes, her hair curled like mine used to, but her smile was less bright. I was thinking I was in a trance, but then you leaned in and kissed her. Just the way you kiss me.
Right there.
In the open.
With so much love in your eyes.
My knees gave out. The world spun. I thought I was dying. It would have been much better.
You told me I was the only one. You told me we were forever. You told me I had the best smile, that you couldn’t live without me. What happened then?
So it was all a lie. You lied.
To me.
To us.
To what we had and shared
I stood by the mirror that night and cried till there was no strength left in me. I couldn't even recognize the girl staring back at me. I looked like a shadow of myself. I had loved too much and in return it had broken me too deeply.
But somehow, I still miss you.
But were you ever mine to miss?.
Maybe I was just a chapter in your story, but you were the whole book in mine. And now I’m stuck rereading the pages, trying to find what I did wrong.
The truth is, I can't find my fault because it wasn’t me.
It was you. Yes, it was you all along.
You never loved me. You just loved the way I loved you. The way I made you feel. The way I consistently gave you all my heart until there was nothing left to give.
Maybe, I'll just sit here, by the mirror with your old shirt clinging to my skin and your favorite coffee hot and nestled in my hands.
Maybe I'll just sit by this mirror staring at the broken girl I've become.
Still wishing for you.
Still hurting for you.
Still longing for you.
For something that was never really real.
For something that was just an illusion of what I thought was real.
