You.

I hear you play your guitar and suddenly, the song you’re playing is the only song stuck in my head. I play the song on repeat, until I fall asleep, until my ears get tired. And I don’t mind. Because with all honesty, imagining you sing the song on my ear and on repeat, feels like I’m home.

I don’t see you so often but I feel like I carry you everywhere with me. Even when the world quiets down and everyone is asleep, underneath my blanket and leveled breathing, I close my eyes and imagine you beside me. It feels so real. As if you’re really here. Maybe this is all I get to hold on to right now.

I miss this feeling- the feeling of being weightless whenever you’re around. When I’m with you, I’m safe and laid back. I miss you. And with the few days I’ve come not to see you, my daily existence feels like I’ve been living another life. Your voice that I can recognize from afar, I miss it. And your hands, I miss your hands. The tips of my fingers just hoping to trace the back of yours. 

Why am I feeling like this? I can never explain myself. Or maybe I could, but I wouldn’t.

I liked you ever since, and at some point I have to admit that. All the words I type here, all the songs I hear when I turn on the radio, I try to relate it to you. All my favorite movie quotes, all the 11:11 wishes, everything. They’re all for you.

I hate it because you’re annoyingly charming. Your incredible taste in cars and music. Your incredible skill to adapt to the things I want. We are living in a routine that I’m slightly growing tired of but you still make everyday bearable. You, who make all my fictional writing worth reading, who make me break the rules of grammar and composition. The mere thought of you as you occupy my mind in the idle hours of the night. You.

You, who might, I think, have been missing me too.

This was posted 7 months ago. It has 27 notes.
  1. quisha posted this