What I miss most about what used to be:
I miss the holidays with you. How it was just the two of us forming our own little family.
I miss going out with you. We would do such fun things together. We thought so much alike.
I miss your voice. I miss how beautifully you sang when you thought I couldn’t hear you. It was my favorite sound.
I miss your cooking. I never knew loving someone through food until you. You are still my favorite cook.
I miss your surprises. You spoiled me with experiences I would have never thought to pursue myself. I’ve grown so much because of that.
I miss your hugs. You made me feel so nurtured, so safe. I loved the way you would cuddle me.
I miss your friendship. I miss telling you how I feel and knowing how you feel. I miss how we would reassure each other and have each other’s back.
I wish I could still be I your life. That we could be friends. Because that’s how I love you. You are my family, my best friend. But you love me more than that. You love me as a spouse. And I no longer feel that way. I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve really loved you the way that you love me. I thought I could make it last. That it was enough. But it wasn’t. Because there are things I don’t miss.
I don’t miss feeling responsible for both of us. Constantly concerned about you and taking care of you. Feeling like your parent was so frustrating.
I don’t miss taking care of the everyday things. Things that we both should have been sharing, but somehow I ended up with.
I don’t miss picking up the slack. When you got overwhelmed, I would take on both of our shares, rescuing you, but actually enabling you.
I don’t miss the double standards. What you liked to tell me what i did or didn’t do, while those rules never seemed to apply to you.
I don’t miss feeling invisible. Like I was the background to your show. Even though I did all the work, you got all the recognition.
I don’t miss feeling placed in a box. I felt suffocated as I pushed against the walls you placed me in, assuming that you knew everything about me and I would never change.
I don’t miss being the motivator. Having to push myself while pulling you was exhausting. Trying to keep from being dragged down by your fear and anxiety was discouraging.
I don’t miss being afraid to look at other people without you assuming I was checking them out. I don’t miss the insecurities you carried around and made me feel bad about.
I don’t miss how I felt like a shadow of myself. Like I gave so much of me to you that I had no more for myself. How I felt small and the only one I could show myself to was you.
This is me without you. What I miss and what I don’t. There is no black and white here. It’s messy and complicated, splashes of grey and red smeared across the simple lines, the lines I tried to stay within. Lines that no longer define me. Lines I now color outside of.