Published April 16, 2013 by Tasha

I miss him.
Crazy isn’t it … Almost four months on and something in me still misses him. I don’t know what about him I miss. I think I miss actually seeing him, hearing his voice. I miss his friendship … I know I miss our relationship, but I also realise that it’s over and there’s nothing else to it.
And it just hit me now, as we are talking, I actually really do miss him. Now that the rawness of the break up has warn off, now that all the anger has passed and we’re able to have a conversation without attacking each other, I can finally admit to myself that I miss him.

And who knew that admitting that to yourself could be so hard. I think it’s because you don’t know whether the other person misses you or not. Sometimes I get the impression that he’s just glad he’s got rid of a burden. Other times I get a sense that there’s something still there … There probably always will be. And I know neither of us will act on it.

I’m sitting on my bed, my doona and pillows keeping me warm. One of my puppies has curled herself up into a tiny little, white fluffy ball at the bottom of my feet. And I have got my Beats on listening to “Lucy” … Our song. And if I close my eyes I can still hear him singing it softly to me.

It’s then that I admit to myself, I really do miss him.


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