I miss my friend really badly.
I missed him while I was on vacation in one of the most beautiful cities.
I missed him coming back, dreading coming back to the whole emptiness of it all.
I miss the anticipation I used to have when he'd tell me he was coming over.
I miss how happy I used to be with him, thinking and praying that I hope this happiness doesn't end. I miss the long phone calls. Oh, the long phone calls. And the kissing, sometimes soft, sometimes tender, always soothing.
I miss him a lot. I know I shouldn't but I do. I know he doesn't miss me but I miss him. It's just uneven how men can break away without any ties but we women are left holding the bag, missing them incessantly. That's how I feel this morning. Monday morning a week after my birthday. I feel... lost.
I feel like there's no one to talk to about my vacation, no one to eagerly await my return.
No one picked me up from the airport and no one called me when I got home. It's just a sad existence.
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