It seems like it was just yesterday when you were tucking my hair behind my ears and now you’re just a Snapchat story I watch.
I’ve been too busy missing every great thing about you to be able to move on. I miss the way you thought my laugh was funny and the way you’d throw things at me when I was too concentrated on a book in order to snap me back into reality.
I wish I could move on but you had become such a large part of who I was, who I am. Four years together does that to a person.
Now I see you in my apartment everywhere. You are the three top drawers of my dresser, you’re the abandoned box of Smores Pop Tarts on the kitchen table, you’re the small wine stain on the couch, and I miss you so much.
It’s like you’re still here with me sometimes, floating in my head and your voice seems so loud in my ears. I love it. It makes the memories replaying in my head more vivid, more real.
You’ve moved on and I want to do the same because then I wouldn’t be pathetically lost in your laugh in the small clips you post of you and your old friends. I miss it so much even though I only get to hear it for a few short seconds.
I haven’t been able to move on because I am human. A human that loved too much, gave too much of herself away, and now I’m here reminiscing about a time that seems like years ago even though it’s only been weeks.
I’m happy to see you’re okay and happy and moving forward and I want that for myself. That may not be today, but I will be okay until then.