Cerulean

strangers to friends to lovers, to friends to strangers

I'm probably not going to publish this.

I don't think you'd care if I did.

It's been a couple months since we've last spoke, and I don't want to admit it but I miss you.
Everything reminds me of you: down to fucking Weetbix board. I remember when you asked to take partial credit in my project, and complained the entire time about the type of cardboard I used.

I found all of your old music on a SD card from five years ago, my favourite ones. Listening to Minefields by Faouzia on the way home, thinking about how you used to sing for me, and I loved to listen.

I miss your hugs when I'm feeling especially down, I miss your voice, I miss your smile, I miss you. I miss everything about you. And nothing can fill that cavity, and I'm trying my best.
You'd think to yourself, "God, he's so pathetic." Or "He brought this on himself."

And you're right. I don't deserve even your pity, I really did bring this upon myself.

It's like doing nicotine, and then stopping altogether. I miss you like the air in my lungs, even if you kill me. I'm pathetic, I'm pathetic for you.