I miss you

You've always loved my hair. I get why, I've always loved it too.

It's always been the focal point of self expression for me, that probably ties into me being trans but that's not the point.

I remember the first time I shaved it all off, the first time I went to the barbers, the first time I dyed it.

I taught myself to cut my own hair after one too many bad experiences at the barbers. I only ever found one barber who could cut a decent mullet but is too far away for me to justify going back. They also always caught a piercing, almost yanking it out.

I've never had my hair professionally dyed but people think it is all of the time. That always makes me smile.

You loved to run your fingers through it, complimenting how soft it was. I let you put crotchet in it, I let you put flowers in it, I let you choose the colours.

Now I can't help but think that you'd love my current hair. Overgrown, messy, washed out but soft. The pale colour, mixed with various reds and greens that just wont wash out. My roots are showing now too, untouched by bleach or dye. It's longer than usual, making me look younger than I actually am.

You'd smile, run your hands through it and tell me how much you love it. How soft it makes me look.

I hate it, but I know that your reaction would make me love it. Would make me keep it longer. Just like I kept the green in my hair just because of the way you looked at me.

You blocked me on ***, your boyfriend doesn't like that we're friends. I understand him, I get it. It's not something I ever asked you to do, not something I even thought about asking but every person is different. I get it.

Sometimes I wonder if he noticed. When I met him, he was nice and polite. I didn't hug you, didn't so much as brush my hand against your shoulder. I didn't touch you at all, worried that I'd think too much about the past.

Yet he still asked you if we did anything, made me confirm it. You told me, asked me to confirm it and I obliged, like I always do.

I didn't tell you that it was eating me up inside. Being so close to you but not being able to grasp your hand. Meeting you at the train station with just an awkward smile instead of a hug or a kiss like we used to do. I only came because I promised.

That's the problem, I always hold true to my promises. I wish I broke them, wish I could just be an ex, wish I could just disappear from your life. Yet I promised i'd stay, promised that i'd be there if you needed me.

We're talking less, it's my doing. I need the space because it's been almost a year and i'm still do deeply in love with you. It consumes every empty part of me and it lingers. I don't know what to do with it. So I hope that if we talk less, i'll love you less. I'll forget about your little sayings, your quirks, the way you used to smile at me so soft even when I was doing something stupid. I hope that i'll forget about how your hands felt in mine, how your hugs were always warm, always safe. I hope that i'll forget how it felt to kiss you, to see you, to spend time with you, to chat about everything and anything.

Yet I still text you everyday on our blocked chat. You can't see it, you'll never be able to. That's comforting and yet devastating all at the same time because I tell you everything. I talk as if you're listening, some part of me thinks you are.

We used to talk about how souls work, how mine would watch over you and vice versa. I find comfort in the idea that your soul is watching over me despite everything.

I tell you things that I would never usually say aloud, I confess my love for you, tell you how much I miss you. I tell you about my day, ask about yours. I never get a response but I already know what you'd say.

You'll never see it. Never see the hundreds of messages and voice notes that i've sent in just under a week. You'll never get to see the journal I wrote about you before you blocked me, the first outlet of all of my feelings and thoughts.

I used to be able to tell you. Even though i'm usually private, I lie and hide most feelings, most people know nothing about me. But talking to you about everything and anything was always easy. It didn't matter if it was random questions at 2am which always led to a lighthearted debate. It didn't matter if it was about deep dark secrets or deepest fears, it was always easy.

I like to think it was easy for you too. I know you've told me everything, i know that you still do. You discuss things about your boyfriend and I talk them through with you. It makes jealousy lick at my bones, my heart ache in a way i've never been able to properly explain but I listen. I ask you what you want from me, advice, someone to vent to, someone to *** with and I follow suit. All because I promised you that i'd be there, no matter what.

Do you miss me? Do some days feel like you're drowning in a sea, grasping for the surface? Does your heart ache on the days we don't talk? Do you still think about the time we spent together? Do you miss our 2am conversations?

Do you remember smiling at me in the softest of ways, like nothing could break that moment we had made? Do you remember the amount of times I told you I loved you, do you remember the times I explained to you why I loved you, how I explained that there's too much love for me to truly comprehend? Do you remember the time you listed all the reasons why you loved me? Do you remember that you called me your soulmate, the love of your life?

I do.

I miss you.