It's obviously not that I miss you. Missing you would be nearly impossible; we've barely spent any time together. Being in that house, in that basement, and in that hallway where we first kissed. Nevermind the bedroom. Where your hands ran up and down my back and you once again, for the tenth time that year, assured me that I was who you wanted to be with. It all makes me wish that I still felt some hope for us. I've become to used to pushing ideas of us aside, in hopes of helping myself move on faster. Thus far, it's only left me with an empty feeling in my stomach when I wake up and when I fall asleep. I want that back again. I want your messy words reminding me that it'll be difficult, but it'll work. I want that feeling after you've left, as much as it hurt(s). I want you approaching me as the entire world completely disappears. I want to rest my head on your shoulder and let you apologize, because even though I say I don't, I need to hear it. I just want your squinty eyes looking into mine and your little teeth awkwardly smiling back at me. She's got an entire world right in front of her. I hope she realizes this.
Even so, progression doesn't mean anything to me if you're still so distant.
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