I'm going to miss you.
This is absolutely the last thing I should be thinking about. I know I'm in this state because I've been off my medication too long. I have no right to miss you, and you don't owe me a thing. We have our own lives, our own dreams, and the red thread of fate is now frayed and faded. We are held together only by our work lives.
I know this. I know how my brain likes to trick me. It wants me to believe you think of me, dream of me, that I float through your field of memories fondly. My brain is full of landmines, traps, just waiting to slice through my logic, through the present. There is nothing for us now, and I know it's for the best. You and I deserve happiness, success, growth.
I'm going to miss you.
We rant, we laugh, we sometimes cry, but we also understand. You understand. When you ask if I'm ok, and I lie, you know that I'm lying. I want to tell you how my thoughts are tangled, mangled, broken, racing. I want to tell you because I know you'll get it. But I can't do that, not to you.
I have no right.
What is wrong with me? Am I so shattered that I can't control my thoughts and desires? Am I so afraid of myself that I can't keep my hands from shaking and my heart from constricting? Why can't I move past this scarring?
I'm going to miss you, even though I shouldn't.
Not a single bit of this is your fault. I'm the one who hurts over nothing, so don't take blame. I am broken, I am scarred, and I do not want to hurt you.
-h.s.
