XXIII IX XI

I still miss you, you know. I miss everything about you; especially the little things that you thought didn’t matter about yourself. I miss the way your hair stood up after you went whale watching. I miss the random patch of blonde hair near your face because you let your friend who was going to beauty school experiment on you. I miss the way you wouldn’t ever smile with your teeth showing, it was more of just a crooked smirk because you thought your real smile was ugly. I miss the mischief that darted behind your big round brown eyes. I miss the way you compared the color of your eyes to shit. I miss bump in your nose and how you hated that too.

I miss how long your fingers were and how the middle finger on your right hand was crooked because you broke it once and it didn’t heal back right. I miss how you thought your hands looked creepy and skeletal but I told you they were perfect. I miss the fullness of your lips and how pink they were. I miss how tall and almost gangly you were and how when you did handstands your ribs poked out a little bit.

I miss how deep and flat your voice was and how you didn’t have one of those annoying Boston accents. I miss how that one gray sweater hung off of you and the sleeves bunched up when you pushed them up. I miss how you would scratch your head when you were embarrassed and your hair would ruffle when you did it. I miss the color of your skin and how you stayed tan even in the middle of winter because of your Brazilian heritage. I miss how you spelled Brazil like Brasil because you were used to the Portuguese spelling. I miss how you talked about how you went to Brazil every other summer. I miss how much pride you took in where you were from. I miss how you went by the English translation of your name because no one could pronounce Cristiano and you didn’t like it. I miss how you didn’t have a middle name.

I miss how you told me you thought I was beautiful, even after I had my tonsils taken out and was the farthest thing from beautiful. I miss how I felt that you were being genuine when you said I was beautiful. I miss how secure you were with the fact that I wanted you and only you and said I could get a birthday kiss from that one musician because you knew in the end, I’d rather run off with you. I miss how the only thing we argued about was if sloths were ugly or not. I miss how badly you absolutely loathed sloths and thought they were the ugliest things on the face of the earth, yet I adored them.

I miss setting an alarm on my phone to wake myself up ten minutes before you’d get home from work at that party store so I could talk to you. I miss taking naps while you were at work so I didn’t have to miss you. I miss how hard you worked so you could help your mom. I miss how sweet you were to your mother, even when she said things that hurt you. I miss how good hearted you were in general. I miss how we’d take showers at the same time and race to see who could get out first so we wouldn’t have to go a minute without the other or keep the other waiting.

I miss how while I was at school or asleep you’d write these big long things and post on my wall on Facebook and they’d be a mess of random stuff that nobody but you and I cared about and how half the time it wouldn’t let you post any of it because it was too long. I miss having people tell us how cute we were and how we were cute in a way that wasn’t annoying. I miss how you called me your snowflake because of how white I am. I miss how we were one of those sickeningly adorable Tumblr couples who had similar blogs and reblogged each other’s stuff and all of that incredibly annoying shit.

But most of all, I just miss your presence. I miss knowing you existed. I miss having you as a best friend and a boyfriend. Even if I couldn’t have you back as a boyfriend, I’d take you back as a best friend in a heartbeat. I just want to know you’re alive. I want to know if you’re okay. I want to know if you’ve fallen in love again. I want to know if you still think of me and if you regret leaving. Were you honest when you said that I was perfect to you? Were you honest when you said you’d never forget about me?

I miss going to bed with my heart feeling warm and a smile on my face. These days, I don’t get much sleep and my heart feels empty and there’s hardly a genuine smile to touch my lips. These days, I don’t feel complete or satisfied. I sit wondering and questioning what I did to make you leave and why you left so abruptly, when the night before we’d been making all kinds of plans for the future.
You said we’d be together forever, but forever never came for us. But I wasn’t the one who left and I still haven’t. I’m stuck in the past because of you, but I don’t mind that so much.

I’ve talked about all of these things I miss, but I’ve failed to mention the things that I don’t miss. There’s only one thing and it is September 23rd, 2011. That’s the night you left and sometimes, I wish I could go back and delete that day from happening. Maybe if that day hadn’t existed, you wouldn’t have left.

Sometimes I astound myself with how pathetic I sound over you, as you’ve probably moved on and are happy. But here I am, stuck in the past and hung up on you. There’s no sense in trying to get over it when right as I’m ready to forget about you, I have a dream about you. I’m at the point that it’s useless to try and forget, because I never will. I’m convinced I may as well have your name and the day you left branded across my forehead because it won’t leave. The pain hasn’t left and the love sure as hell has not left and I know it never will.

But no matter who I try and move on with or when, I know it’ll always come back to you and XXIII IX XI.