Misses

You didn’t want to be loved. You hated touching people and being touched. When someone hugged you I saw you make a face. You hated being complimented, and you tried to ignore it when it happened. When someone put time and effort into doing something for you, you were grateful but I could tell by your expression and your tone that you wished they hadn’t bothered. Sometimes I would see you turn down invitations or offers to hang out with people. Other times I’d notice that you tried to prevent others from getting close to you, or sabotaged relationships with them deliberately.

When you had problems you never reached out to anyone. You hated the idea of burdening someone with your issues and chose to bottle everything up instead. A couple times you slipped up and I caught you with a little red around your eyes and you would try to play it off like you were tired. You would lock your door and turn your lights off and stay in there for hours, alone.

There were times when you would go for a drive or for a walk because you wanted to get away from everyone and there were times when you wouldn’t speak to anyone for days. I know you always believed in God deep down, but you never went to church, and I think that was because deep down you also couldn’t believe that you deserved to be saved. That you were worthy of love. That you were lovable.

I know you were lonely but you never showed it. When you saw couples at the park your face would go blank sometimes. I know you were always caught between not believing you were attractive or valuable to anyone and not wanting to keep getting older alone. I know that when you got rejected on the few occasions that you did try reaching out, it ripped you up inside and you laughed and tried to make it seem like you didn’t care.

You wanted to have kids one day. You tried to reject that part of you that made you feel loneliness and attraction and arousal and you tried to see yourself as something less than human, not human, as an overgrown clump of moss in a person-shaped costume or a rock magically given sentience, as a way to escape the pressure you felt from it all. You wished you’d been born a long time ago, when it wasn’t so complicated, even if it meant you would have less of a choice in things. I wish that too. We talked about it once.

I know you tried to escape from your own life in so many ways. You were always talking about your dreams, dreams you remembered in vivid detail. You read more philosophy than anyone I’d ever met in person. There was something beyond the mundane here and now you were looking for, something always just out of reach. I know you sometimes despaired because you felt like you weren’t smart enough to reach whatever it was. You talked about it so much and I could never follow everything you were trying to tell me.

It’s been quiet here lately. If you saw how I’ve been sitting around all day long and staring out the window you would laugh and tell me to cheer up.