I guess I don’t even miss you that much anymore, I got over the aspect of being your friend a while ago. I think I did, at least. I mean, some days I miss when you’d come over and laugh and make jokes with my family, it just felt like you always lit up a room. Some days I miss be able to hang out with you in a group and grab your waist and laugh about it- just dumb little things like that. Most of all, I miss the idea of you. The idea of having someone that wanted me the way I always wanted other people; it seemed like such a foreign concept for someone to be so straightforward with how much they liked me, and it hurts thinking back on it. Did you ever really want to kiss me? Would things have been different if I had kissed you on May 7th? And I miss your hugs. I miss the fact that you wouldn’t let go until I did, and you never loosened your grip. You just held me. And I know I wasn’t special in that aspect, I just miss it. I miss how you made me feel special. All the little things you said that gave me all those stupid fucking butterflies.
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