I don't know why I still have the cheeks to say 'I miss you'. What made me think I had you to start with? What made me think all those silly games we made up were a sign for me to call you mine? Mine enough to say now, that I miss you like crazy.
I miss you like fucking crazy. But I don't miss you. I don't miss when I have to sit on your bed and watch you clean your room. I don't miss watching movies after movies on your lousy laptop. I don't miss having to sit facing you while I have my lunch. In fact, I hate them. They make me feel uncomfortable. But I cannot get enough of them�cannot get enough of the way you stare at me when I look away; cannot get enough of the moments when I feel a text message coming. They are like the calm before a storm�the most beautiful suspense; the deafening silence. The mystery that never goes away.