“I have late night conversations with the moon. She tells me about the sun, and I tell her about you.” ~ S.L. Gray

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I didn’t want to miss you.

I wanted to continue my well-designed charade of self-sufficiency and an iron spine. I wanted to continue to be the goddess warrior who raged through life, able to leave anyone behind that no longer served her or the dreams she’d cast upon the soil with the tenacity to make anything grow.

But no matter how much I didn’t want to miss you—I did.

It snuck in, under the guise of freedom and sex. It seduced me under the pretense of unattachment and summer flings, until I found myself missing something I had told myself I never should want.

You.

We both know that we’ve not only danced this routine before, but we’ve sung, caressed, painted and explored whatever it is that beats between us deeply enough that we both may be marked forever by our experiences together.

Yet, no matter how much we have played with the fire we create, we’ve never actually said what any of this means. That is, until I broke the rules and started telling you that I love you—not because of the man I could see you growing into, but because of the soul you already are.

You’d think that because I’ve told you I’m completely in love with you, saying I miss you wouldn’t be a big deal. After all, we tell family members, friends, pets—whomever—that we miss them. Perhaps our hearts are in it, or maybe it’s just a casual saying we utter in passing.

Yet, it’s not a casual feeling that I had for you.

What I felt wasn’t only that I missed you—but that I wished you were here with me.

For the first time since I began this new life, I could actually visualize someone here with me. I could see you driving with us, putting up with the monsters in the backseat and poking fun at me on the long drive.

You were there at the cottage in the mornings, in the streaming sunlight—and in the evenings, it was you next to me in the hot tub under the stars.

I had never felt that before—not because I wanted to place you there, but because you would have fit so effortlessly into our lives.

And so, as I was driving home from a whirlwind of adventures, I knew that no matter how much it scared me—no matter how much I knew you didn’t want to hear it—I knew that I had to tell you.

I made a promise to myself long ago that I would never silence my truth for someone else’s comfort—that I would never decide how to act based upon how I expected someone to react.

I had made the choice to be all me, every last crazy detail and heartbreaking reality. And so—for me, even though I shook with fear as I thought of telling you, I also knew I had no other choice.

Even now, while all of this could mean nothing—despite the lack of action, I have a feeling it does mean something, and possibly a very strong something.

But even something can become nothing if we decide to not act upon it; if we make the choice to go in a different direction.

And so, I knew that regardless of what the future held, or how unlikely it was that you would ever choose me, I knew I had to show you every part of me.

Not because I thought it would change your mind, but because I knew if I didn’t, I would always wonder what if? I would sit and think that maybe if I had been more honest, if I had shown my heart more that maybe you would have decided to stay here with me in this world.

I didn’t know when the right moment would be, or if I would simply chicken-out, like I had previously when  telling you that I loved you, in person.

Yet, when we were in the shower and the warm water was falling over both of us, and we were kissing with the raw intensity of saying hello and goodbye simultaneously, I suddenly had the words fall out of my mouth before I was even aware of them.

I whispered them, possibly silently, and maybe that is why you asked me what I said—or maybe it was just that you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

In those three words I wasn’t just saying that I miss you—but that I need you.

I was saying that there is a place here reserved for you in my life, if you ever felt you wanted to join me.

I was saying that while my life is amazing, I think it could be even better if you were by my side.

And I was saying that without a doubt, not only did I love you—but that I was willing to lay it all down for you, and let you in like I never have with anyone else before.

Though I knew the reality of the situation, I still took a chance—and for that I will always be grateful, even as you called things off the following night, saying you were closing the door on us for good.

And I hadn’t cried over you…until I began writing these words.

Sometimes the hardest things to say are those things we can’t even handle thinking about.

I don’t know if this is the end or not—truthfully, only time will tell that for certain.

There are so many things I am ambiguous about at this point, but I’m determined to experience the questions, rather than force the answers.

Yet, regardless of any of that, the one thing that I do know for certain is that I still miss you—even though that’s the hardest thing for me to admit.

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Author: Kate Rose

Image: Author’s own.

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina