When missing becomes unbearable

I should’ve known that one of the rules in a life full of movement is that you will never have strong, lasting relationships. If I had the opportunity right now I’d go back to all those places that have marked my life and tell the people I met how much they have changed me. And how much I’d love for them to be part of my life again. I know that people come and go, and changing friends and lovers is part of life. For me, however, it’s a different story.

In the past years, since I left home, I have overcome thousands of things that I never thought I was going to face and got used to things I wish I’d never gotten used to. One of those things was missing people.

For reasons I’m still trying to understand, I stopped talking to people because I got tired of missing them. It was easier to pretend I was too busy to talk to them and stop remembering how much I needed them in my life. I was strong enough to leave, but not to handle the aftermath.

Have you felt it? That hole that’s always there regardless of the wonderful places you visit, the amazing stories you find, and the life-changing emotions you feel. Have you gone throughout life wondering what it is that you are missing when you only need a hug that will last more than two seconds from just one person? Have you left just so that person would beg you not to leave? You would’ve still left, but you just needed to hear that someone’s life would not be the same without you.

Funny enough, you left all those times to feel connected, to discover that thread that connects all of us. You pretended that every ticket booked was a new sentence on your resume, but that was only a cover-up. You wanted to see other scenarios in a naive attempt to understand what it is that we are all missing.

I’ve remained silent because everybody keeps talking about love, living life, following dreams, laughing, and the ‘simplicity’ of life. (Life is not fucking simple. I’ve been to places where people live simply, but their lives are not simple at all.) The truth is, however, that I keep forgetting to say how much I miss you, how I wish you were here with me eating ice cream, how I wish you were here with me debating politics, how I wish you were here next to me so that we could dance our worries away, how I wish I had you here so I could rest my head on your chest just for one night.

How I wish I could stay in a single place just to stop missing you. The problem is that I don’t think I could tolerate missing myself.

Well, I guess it’s good to at least have people worth missing in my life.