Ughaksdhfaksjdhflkasjhdf I MISS MY BEST FRIEND.
She’s been away for a while, wandering around Seattle with her family.
I don’t know when she’ll be back or when she’ll next have cell service and so once again it’s been weeks since we’ve spoken.
We are basically married and we already did the long distance relationship for nearly nine months and summer was supposed to be finally we would be able to see each other on at least a semi-regular basis I AM SO DONE NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE OR TO TALK TO HER.
I would like my best friend back from the wonderful wilds of Seattle now, right now, thanks.
Sometimes I’m still sad. Sad in a way that’s okay, but in a way that I’ve never been able to stop or see coming. I’ll be boxing, beating my frustrations out to AC/DC, and I’ll imagine finishing a workout, stopping to grin and kiss him quickly before going to shower all the sweat off. I’ll be waking up mid-morning, walking to my bathroom sleepily, and I’ll imagine him lifting the too-big t-shirt I fell asleep in off, pressing his lips to mine before I can mumble protestations. I’ll be running by the beach in the evening, and whenever I pass where we all-too-often sat, I’ll stop for a moment and imagine him standing next to me, watching the waves, saying nothing at all. I’m no longer sad this way a lot, but when it hits it beats me up. Because it’s the if we had gone out then we would have been almost a year together now that still takes the breath right out of me. If we had gone out then, we wouldn’t have been happy; if we had gone out then we would now be facing a year of long-distance and I do not do that, not ever. But we would also have a year of fights and forced communication if we are ever going to get better at it and having to go to Target for toothpaste and deodorant and falling asleep after studying or fucking and too many movies to count and my falling apart and his stoicism and our combined flaws and faults and strengths. We would also have that. So sometimes I’m still sad. I miss the almost-midnights and two-in-the-mornings and three in the afternoons that haven’t happened, that won’t ever happen. Sometimes it’s still terrible to be so painfully aware of all of what won’t ever happen.