over the time, i've missed a lot of my friends' birthday dates. some of them lingered into my minds—like it's the time to celebrate someone's special days, yet i no longer had any recollection of whom was that for. the time passed by, and the only news i've got about 'em was from their instagram's story section.
sometimes, i feel like i've missed the fun part of being 20s. pandemic days, the stress of the future, struggling with myself. and then, this economic disaster hit upon my late 20s and to keep myself sane, it's just running away at night. tried to stay afloat, barely hanging on.
these days, i've missed your presence. the short wild ride and the tense flirts. the calls up all night and the texts over DMs. i held on to the last chats like it was the only thing that kept me alive—while you're living your life out there, somewhere. i've tried to lose your number or ignore your existence, just to find myself craving that sweet lies and the lost time of us.
and maybe in three or five years, i'll miss you. i'll miss your dry jokes and flirty smile. i'll miss my shared story about that blonde girl i used to love and your favorite bands. i'll miss your stories up at night and how you described the differences of UI/UX to my stupid dumb brain. i'll miss these feelings—and then i'll forget about it. because you were the loss of my life. never the are. never been mine.
// dual definition of miss; i'd rather missed you than miss you.
05.01.26; 10.27pm
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