I miss you.

Miru-chan,

I miss you.

I miss your hair, your smile, the snort you make when you giggle.
I miss your kawaii voice when you talk to me in Japanese, I miss the way your head tilts just slightly when you ask a question, as if you're wondering whether I'll be honest with you or not.
I miss the fact that you didn't always look perfect, and that you hated certain things about you, but you were the most beautiful person I've ever seen. (And you hated when I told you that too.)

I miss you.
I miss talking to someone at 3 am at night. I miss the calls, the texts, the emails, the messages, the posts, the PMs.
I miss seeing your name in my messenger, I miss hearing your slightly annoying messenger alert as you pester me.
I miss not having to say anything; I miss being able to just stare at you and love you, and you doing the same.
I miss your voice, I miss your singing. I miss your laugh, your moan, your cry.
I miss your tiny hiccups. I miss how wide your eyes would go when I'd fall off my chair or when you'd hear someone yelling in the background.
I miss when you'd grab your breasts in annoyance.

I miss you.
I miss your jealously.
I miss your empathy.
I miss being able to tell someone about how shitty I think my life is, even though it's usually my fault and there are people out there with shittier lives then me, and you would sit there and listen, nodding.
I miss hearing exactly what I needed to hear.
I miss your life stories. I miss hearing about how you lose and gain friends.
I miss the feeling of security.
I miss going into third person and being two separate people then who we are, looking at ourselves, and judging ourselves, and making every conversation the best one we've had.

I miss you.
I miss your mocking. I miss your praise, your feelings, your inept attempt at expressing yourself emotionally because I made you just a little nervous.
I miss the butterflies in my stomach when I'd see you calling. I miss feeling like nothing could ever tear us apart.
I miss writing stories with you, and hearing your life before anyone else did.
I miss writing poems about you, and only showing you 1 out of 10 of them.
I miss the artform that we were, the way your hands were just small enough to fit inside mine.
I miss the fact that you filled my void and I filled yours, and that's all we needed.

I miss our third person, I miss talking to him too. I miss the fact that us 3 would all get jealous over one another, the worst threesome in the world.
I miss the fact that I used to be able to talk to him about males and you about females, and him about females, and you about males.
I miss him.

I miss you.
I miss my dreams about you. I miss fantasizing about visiting you, or you visiting me.
I miss talking about music and movies, I miss talking about sex and pornography, I miss talking about love and emotion.

I miss you.
I miss your hate. I miss your anger. I miss the awkwardness when both of us were too stubborn to say sorry.
I miss us saying sorry at the same.
I miss the make-up sessions.

I miss the lonliness.
I miss the sense of loss and feverity.
I miss the knowledge of not knowing what would happen next. I miss not knowing when you'd show up again.
I miss the fact that no matter what happens, who we love, who we sleep with, what we do, there will be that corner in my soul that has your name etched into it in purple.

I miss missing you.

The lily is still alive.

~Paru-des

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disappoint? yes