Thank you for staying.
Thank you for coming back.
Thank you for staying, when I really thought that you were lost.
I missed your mannerisms and faux nonchalance and the way you chuckle when you find something surprising. I missed the smell of your jacket and your cups of tea and the way you can’t leave your hair alone for five minutes. I missed you being the first person I run to when I’m excited or alone or crying or have any excuse to see you.
Because nothing was quite right when you were gone. Sure I could be happy, and sure I could get by quite fine, but something was unmistakably missing: I’d lost my dearest friend.
And maybe for a long part it was me who was missing. Because, for a while, it was you who was reaching out and there was no reply. There were so many nights where I almost called you and cried down the phone because the overwhelming nature of being unable to live with or without your presence was too much for me to hold. But the fear of another goodbye was too much for me to grant yet another hello. So I dug my head deep in the ground where your chuckle and smell and hair-touching couldn’t find me.
But living in deceit could never last. Because, darling, you have such a hold on me. You’re lovely and intoxicating and wonderful and brilliantly flawed. I knew it as soon as our faces next met. No matter how high the walls are, they will never prevent your from passing through. Because you make me happy, and I could never lose that joy you bring me. Not for anything.
You make life brighter and hopeful and comfortable, but not in the sense that could ever make me complacent. No, you’re so aggravatingly complex and poignant and so unlike the others. And you’re always there.
I just can’t escape from you.
But that’s okay. Because, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.