These next words won't matter to most of you. I'll understand and won't care all too much if you move your cursor to the upper right-hand corner of this little notification and cast it out of sight. These next words are for me.

I wish I could honestly say that I don't miss you.
But I've never fancied myself a very good liar. The art eludes me.
Lately, I haven't been waking up on a memory-foam mattress with your arm draped over my side. I've been waking up cold and alone.

For the better part of 19 years, that's how I've always slept. Alone. But not usually quite so cold. When you get used to borrowing somebody else's body heat throughout the night, you miss it when it's gone. When all you've got is yourself and the blankets to keep you warm.

This distance is completely rude, and the time is even crueler, wasting away. Maybe time IS the true distance in our situation.

I miss laughing so hard that my stomach would actually start hurting. I miss the free scalp-massages, the underhanded compliments, the fantastic insults.

I wish I hadn't admitted any of these things, but...I think I feel a little better now.

You'll probably never read this, but one day, hopefully not too far away, I'll let you know about the sub-zero temperature of my heart that happens only when you're so far away, so out of reach.

Goodnight.

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