I wonder, do you miss me or us. Do you miss our conversations about the stars and rainwater harvesting. Do you miss my crap cooking or my messy room.
I know I do. I miss the days when you would just call me after a fight with a great joke up your sleeve, waiting for me to smile over the phone. The days of apologies and half-hearted explanations. The days when you would say that I was your favourite person in this small city, where we both live, where I don't think I will ever see you again.
We never know when we are making memories. I never knew I'd miss your irrationality, my tantrums, the pressure you put on me, my whining, our arguments, our goodbyes.
Maybe someday, I'll miss these days too, where I'm quietly comfortable, where nothing hurts any more, but nothing soothes me, where I don't cry, but I'm never happy. I'll miss these days, where all I do is miss you.
