It was you who walked away. You were the one who left me without a word more to say. I let you go, I swear. I turned away, just like you did. I turned my back on all the moments when I told you I didn’t want to walk up that path and get in the car to go home, all the times I told you that I didn’t ever want to say goodbye to you. I let go of everything I had held onto when I realized you weren’t coming back.

So the months passed, I was just fine without you. Sure, there were the moments when I wished I still had you to run to and tell you that I found peace in your blue eyes even though behind them you hid plenty of grief from a rough childhood. Just as there were the moments when I wanted to walk through the park holding hands with you and kissing your cheek in the middle of your sentence. I still wished I could bring you lunch when you were at the car shop, yes, I will finally admit that I found it slightly hot that you worked on cars all day; I could call you a grease monkey. I then had the moments when I was glad you were gone, I could flirt with whoever I wanted, I didn’t have to worry about making someone jealous, I didn’t stress when you wouldn’t answer your phone and I wouldn’t lose sleep over you. If we ever did talk during those months, it was the brief “hi, what’s up?” on facebook and a “not much, I need to get off. Bye.”

I will turn away, I told myself that night before I sent the send button on the chat. I will turn away just like I did all those other times, I told myself again, still fighting the urge. I gave in, and within seconds, you replied. So much for turning away and giving you up.

We talked for hours on that chat, everything under the sun. How was work? Excited to graduate? Why do you hate all the football teams I love? I mean seriously, the Green Bay Packers are awesome! Have you seen any good movies lately? No. Yeah, going to the theatre is so expensive. Wow, you’re moving out? That’s crazy. Perhaps we could hang out? I’d like that, we haven’t seen each other in months. That was just my half of the conversation, and not even in detail.

I guess we both sent it at the same time, or at least thought it at the same time. Just as I had minimized my chat window, I hadn’t even moved my cursor after I sent it, your reply was there too.

Me: I miss you.
You: I miss you.

I felt terrible for you to have to move out, I wished I could let you live in the guest room that used to be the detached garage at my house. I knew my parents would only let that happen when pigs fly. I really did miss you. I just couldn’t turn away. I told myself so many times that I was done talking to you, I was done worrying about you, I was done wondering why you walked away without saying a single word to me, I was done with it all. I wasn’t going back. Or at least I thought I was. Somehow, I just couldn’t turn away.