Someone who used to know you more than you knew yourself. A person who you thought would be there for you, no matter the hurricanes, tsunamis and volcanic eruptions. S/he would somehow just knew what to say, do or act; just lie beside you listening to your beat up iPod when you're feeling like the world is dematerializing, tell you about how humans act when you just finished adding scars to your body, small, unimportant things like that.
So I raise my hand, because I am missing that someone.
It's pitiful of me really, to miss a person who already forgotten me for.. what? It was April when we last squeezed the last drops of the condensed awkwardness between us. So, eight months roughly.
You, who are reading these words typed straight from the heart of a piteous person, might yawn because she had written about it too many times. You figure that she should just forget about it and move on. Digest her own advices and live the beautiful life she oh-so deserves.
Well, I'll tell you one thing: I'll never tire myself of this subject. These emotions aren't mere black holes of despair and defeat, they are inspirations. For me to write and for you to know. Not care, just know.
And right now, just be aware of a person who has a longing for an old, familiar companion.