I miss you. Miss you. Miss. Mmm.

I roll over in the middle of the night awoken by a buzz from my phone. The notification shows his name with the words I miss you. I flip my phone over and go back to sleep. In the morning I wake to find the message was not a dream. I did in fact receive those three words in a message at 4:24am from an ex boyfriend. Ugh.

I roll over in the middle of the night and grab my phone because I can’t sleep. I read back through my message history with him and wonder where it all went wrong? I miss him. Does he know? Maybe he misses me too? We were never technically together but those three dates we had were enough to hook me. Looking out the window, I see the falling snow, icy to the touch, which warms my broken heart. Perhaps it has the same effect on him. I text him, I miss you. Finally I fall asleep. In the morning I wake to find no response. And nothing the next day. Or the day after that. The snow is gone and I envy it for being able to disappear so easily. Ugh.

I roll over in the middle of the night and creep her Instagram page. Stuck in a purgatory between fighting and/or too busy, it’s been a few months since we last spoke and I wonder how she is doing. The only deduction I can draw from her page is that she attends parties for a living and a photographer follows her around everywhere, even to the Laundromat. I comment on one of her photos hoping that such a public display won’t be rejected. “Cool pic! I miss you!” In the morning I wake to find she has liked my comment but said nothing back. Progress? Ugh.

I roll over and stare at her now frail body. I think about how when I was younger, she always seemed so strong. I rack my brain trying to remember the last time she said I miss you and decide it must have been in my early twenties. I look around the room and take in the heaps of things she has collected over the years. I cringe at thought that when she dies, I’m going to be the one who has to sort through this mess. Oh, how I’ll miss you.