Just because I haven’t called you doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you. Just because I haven’t told you that I need you doesn’t mean that I’m not longing each second to show up at your door. Just because you’ve stopped thinking of me doesn’t mean you aren’t my last thought when I sumberge beneath a stormy sleep. And when it’s 3 AM and I’m lying here, watching the Christmas lights above my bed flicker, not hearing the music through my headphones – that doesn’t mean that I don’t wish I were laughing with you right now. I think that if I were to see you again, my heart would twist and constrict, would thud like the heavy clunk of broken machinery, and I don’t think I could breathe. Maybe you would feel something, too. But then it hits me: we’re nothing more than strangers. But I’m still here for you. I won’t stop waiting. I won’t stop being ready for when you want me in your life again. And all I want to know is if you’re happy now.
I try to tell myself that I don’t, but deep down, I still care.