It’s been nine months since I last saw you. 41,475,000 people died since you last said hello. My heart has beaten 31,536,000 times since you last sent me that text and I have heaved in air 5,124,600 painful times since we last talked. The sun has risen and set 274 times and I’m still missing you like I did when you said goodbye, when you stopped relying, when you stopped calling.
I know you would call if you could, at least that’s what I tell myself. Maybe you can’t get to your phone, you’re too busy, or…
When I’m walking through the city I imagine your life now. Are you sitting in coffee shops with that book you kept meaning to read? Are you meandering through crowded markets looking for those fruits you had never tried? Or are you sad or alone and afraid somewhere?
Sometimes, when I let my mind wander, I catch a glimpse of you in the corner of my eye. You brush me by on the street, but before I can say hello you’re gone. As the train pulls away from the station I catch your eye through the glass, but you can’t see my frantic waving and then you’re gone again.
I know you can’t see my messages, and you can’t hear the voice mails I leave, but I send them anyway.
It scares me now, because I have to look at pictures to remind myself of the dimples in your cheeks, or the colour of your eyes, the length of your hair. If your memory fades, what will I have left? The memories we share are fading too, succumbing to the rose tinted glass that they were placed behind when you disappeared. Like overplayed tapes, they’re wearing out. If I can’t remember why I have this emptiness what will I do? Who will save you? Will you fade away into nothingness too?
If no-one can remember you, did you even exist?
Is that what you’re doing? Erasing yourself from existence, letting yourself dissipate into crackling memories and faded pictures.
Please come back,
I miss you.