What do I miss the most about you and me? It’s not the conversation, or the laughter, or the sex. If I close my eyes, I can still picture it: us in bed, clothes strewn all over the floor, the tv on, but the volume low, the occasional bump or footsteps of your brothers moving around upstairs. The thing I miss the most is when we were lying in your bed, half awake and half dreaming, when the alcohol is just starting to pull us into a deep sleep. When we were barely touching but our breathing was in sync and your arm was casually draped over me, your fingers tracing mindless and random circles all over my body. In a relationship that was purely sex, it’s ironic that of all the things I could miss about being with you, it is one of our most intimate and innocent moments. I never appreciated the closeness or intimacy we would sometimes share because I was so determined to keep what we were doing void of emotion. In fact, I know I often pushed you away, reminding you that I hated cuddling, which would only cause you to grab me and trap me next to you…until you started kissing me, and I was secretly relieved that things could stay strictly sex. I was the one who set the precedent for our relationship, and yet, here I am, missing your touch–in the most innocent ways possible. What is this hold that you have over me, and why can’t I escape it, even months later?
I used to believe in fairy tales. I used to believe in happy ever afters and price charmings and knights in shining armour. But not anymore. Those are stories told to little girls to make them believe that happiness is possible. It’s not. Not in a world like this.