I Miss Who I Was When I Was With You

I miss you.

I miss what we were. I miss what we had. I miss kissing you for so long that we’d tun out of breath. I miss the way you looked at me, so mesmerized. I miss the way you didn’t even flinch at what I thought would scare you away. I miss your laugh and our cuddling sessions. I miss your voice and the way we could talk for hours. I miss being myself shamelessly with you. I miss not feeling insecure or uncomfortable being naked around you. I miss how you were willing to do anything to make me smile. I miss how you’d laugh and kiss my forehead so innocently after. I miss hearing you call me beautiful at random times. I miss how you worried about me. I miss the sex and how amazing it was because it was genuine and emotional. I don’t miss how we missed our chance at a happily ever after because you chose to give up. I miss feeling like I was more than enough. I miss the person you brought out of me.

But amidst all the things I miss and wish would’ve lasted, I realized that it’s not you who I miss—it’s me. I miss who I pretended to be when I was with you: genuinely happy. I miss feeling carefree and confident. I miss feeling beautiful and deserving of it all. I miss the person who you simultaneously built and destroyed. I will find that person again, but not because of someone else. I am recreating her and bettering her, and someday I won’t miss you anymore because I will have found myself. 

A part of me will always miss you because I was willing to do anything for you. I am working on feeling that same love for myself. Maybe someday I’ll be able to think of you and smile and wish you the best. But until then I’ll just say I miss the person I wanted you to be.