4pm in the afternoon and I wonder what she's doing. Wait. Maybe I don't. Not when she's with that person.
I never knew missing someone can feel so bittersweet and heartbreaking at the same time. Like a haunting tune, my mind keeps returning to Saturday morning, being there with her, that privileged sense of understanding and belonging that was exclusive to just the two of us. It felt warm and unbreakable. Yet now, she feels like a million miles away, and my only hope is that she misses me, even if it's just a fraction of how I'm missing her now. Then comes the heartbreaking part, the part where my mind returns to present reality. A reality that never stops reminding me that someone else is holding her, sharing a privileged moment with her.
And then, that familiar sinking feeling takes over. A familiar torture that I can never get used to nor be rid of. Sinking.... Slowly sinking. Suffocatingly sinking. Hopelessly sinking.
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