Hours Pass and She Still Counts the Minutes That I Am Not There: I Want to Tell You Pt. 2
I want to tell you...
I want to tell you that I'm thankful you came back in December and that Pho never tasted so good as it did on that day. I want to tell you that beer bottle top riddles were never so much fun to uncover and that I'm glad you called me that night to drive you home. I'll never forget the sight of strung snowflake lights hanging across an empty downtown road on a cold Winter night.
I want to tell you that being woken up at 1am, 2am, and 3am just to talk never made me feel more happy or wanted, and that I secretly wish I would still hear the phone buzzing at an unGodly hour some nights.
I want to tell you that I'm glad I got to spend your rainy birthday night with you, Christmas night listening to old records and slow dancing in the kitchen (sorry for the two left feet), New Years on the undefeated beer pong champ table, and Redskins playoffs with an amazing tailgate the night that Ovi scored his 500th career goal.
I want to tell you that those 29 reasons (+1 for good luck) I sent you at midnight on the 23rd still ring true.
I want to tell you that Netflix and Chill will forever be Peakyz & Snugs and that I can see your eye roll now (but too bad :-P).
I want to tell you that I wish we never had such a good beginning so it didn't feel like such a hard end. And I want to tell you that I wish I could erase all of the early talks.
I want to tell you that I wish that we had met a year from now. Or that timing wasn't a bitch. Or that people weren't damaged. Or that we could just talk for hours like those first few weeks.
I want to tell you that I know how it feels to want be alone, to find less enjoyment in things that used to make you feel so alive, and that I never want that for anyone else. Especially you.
I want to tell you that I'm sorry for the pressure and tight grip, but that they are simply because I don't want to lose you, as counterproductive as my brain knows that it is.
I want to tell you that I'm sorry for the pressure and tight grip, but that they are simply because I don't want to lose you, as counterproductive as my brain knows that it is.
I want to tell you that time still is your best friend.
I want to tell you that I still believe that it gets better and that there's life again and happiness if you fight for it, so I hope you fight for it everyday. And that I wish I could fix it all. And that I'll never stop wishing.
And I want to tell you that when that happens, because it will happen, I still selfishly hope that you immediately think of me. Because, until then, I will miss you everyday.
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