I miss being deluded. I miss having a sense of wonder about everything. I miss finding the little signs here and there; they made me feel like everything was going to be okay. I miss looking up at the sky at night and feeling like we were close to one another; that God was on my side and the stars were magic.
I miss sleeping peacefully. I miss not being up at all hours of the night with my nerves shaking my entire body. I miss the wonder and excitement of the things most people call mundane. I miss the magic in an ordinary morning.
I miss feeling the excitement of this city; how just the buzz of a certain crosswalk would remind me of him as I pictured where or how it would all happen. I miss waking up thinking I was one day closer. Now, I’m just one day closer to death.
I miss being stupid. I miss the blissful ignorance of doom that was lurking upon me. I miss the desire of serendipity. I miss watching romantic movies with hope rather than this sharp pain and endless tears. I miss writing with a purpose, hoping my words would make their way to you somehow.
I miss my strength. I miss my optimism. I miss feeling like I was given something nobody else had. I miss feeling special. I miss feeling like that one unopened present on Christmas morning; the one that you’ve been anticipating but never knew you could attain.
I miss my smile. I miss everything about who I was. I miss not feeling like an empty shell.
But most of all, I think I miss the idea of an us and all the possibilities that could bring.
“She’s in your arms and I’m in the ground.”