I still miss you. Not all the time anymore, not every minute or every second, but I still miss you at least once a day. Maybe now what's changed is that I only allow myself to miss you once a day— instead of all the time. I'll give myself a moment to think about you and how you were probably the first boy I really truly loved. And the first boy I lost. I'll allow myself to remember our conversations and how comfortable I was around you. I remember how every night for months after you left I'd pray to God about you; and use every eyelash or 11:11 or lucky star to wish for you to come back. But I have grown so much since I've known you—since I've lost you. The person I was while I was with you no longer exists. That person tore herself to tiny pieces and used glue and tape to put herself back together. Except she put herself back together differently; her pieces are rearranged. I've been missing you for what seems like a very long time now. And I may always miss you, but eventually instead of thinking about you once a day, it'll become once every few days, and then once a week to once a month, to maybe once a year. So yes, I will always miss you, but that doesn't mean it has to be all the time.
Gabsviolet // g.vio.g
