Tag Archives: me

Missing you.

We make assumptions in life. And some days, you wake up and an assumption that you’d grown used to, suddenly isn’t so stable anymore.

It’s been over five years. Five years, nine months, and thirteen days if you want to be exact. Years that have changed me through heartbreak, transition, and opportunity. And I know they’ve changed you too.

Almost six years of silence.

I woke up this morning with an assumption firmly set in my mind. An assumption that told me there was no hope. An assumption that promised I would never again hear your voice or your laugh, I would never again see your face, I would never again have your friendship.

I woke up this morning to a very subtle change. And I could feel, can feel, it reaching for me. I can feel it’s thin, cold fingers, I can feel the brittle nails, wrapping slowly around my heart. This monster called ‘hope.’ Begging me to give in.

But I know hope. And hope is not to be trusted.

Didn’t you teach me that?

It was probably a mistake. It probably meant nothing to you. You probably thought I wouldn’t notice. You probably didn’t give it any thought at all. You probably didn’t mean to cause my assumptions to waiver.

Five years, nine months, thirteen days, and I’m still…

Missing you.




I don’t like being around people when I feel like that. I feel like I’m infecting them.

I can feel waves, like heat, radiating from me. This bubble surrounding me that those standing too close are trapped within. I feel their awkwardness when they can sense something is wrong but don’t know how to ask. I can’t make eye contact with them but I can feel the stolen glances they brave toward me. I can feel my silence- it’s palpable. But I feel enclosed in my own gloom.

And my thoughts make me ache. It’s your choice to feel this way, you know. You just have to stop. You’re making this hard on everyone, you’re ruining their time. Choose to feel better. It’s your fault you feel this way. You’re not doing anything about it. You have to do something about it. It’s your fault.

And then there’s tears in my eyes.

It’s your fault.

And it is. It is my fault. I should just smile. I should pull myself up by my bootstraps. It doesn’t matter how. I should just do it. I must be choosing to feel this way – I must be.

Just relax.

Just smile.

Just feel better.

Just talk.

Just act.

Just be better.

Just choose.



I asked her how her day had been and she skirted the question. She answered it, technically. But I could feel more beneath her response. I asked again, differently. Again, she answered, but not fully. She said a certain part of her day had been fine.

“So what wasn’t fine today?” I asked.

Finally, I’d hit the right question. She blurted out what she hadn’t been saying, coated with annoyance. She avoided any detail, so I asked another question. And then another.

And then she was crying.

I pushed away the anger I felt growing in me, not toward her, but toward those that had hurt her. I pulled her in for a hug and just held her why she cried.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I told her quietly, combing my fingers through her hair, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I wondered what I could do to help, to fix this, to retaliate. Nothing, really. Only this. Hold tight to the hurting and brush away their tears, even if they continue to cry.

You didn’t do anything wrong.



Dissect me of myself.

Pull me apart and embed yourself inside of me and scoop away all of the unwanted, unneeded filth that rests in my bones. Empty me of the blood that runs through my veins and fill it with your own. Remove my heart and order a transplant for something better. Something that more closely resembles you.

I am not satisfied with the person I am: so self consumed. Rid me of myself. Take away my thoughts and fill my head with yours.

I don’t want to be my own person. All I want to do is reflect You.



I know that I’m a sinner.

You don’t need to tell me, I’ve had that part figured out for a long time. There’s some part of my make up that delights in the wrong things. There is some part of me that doesn’t turn it’s back to evil but rather embraces it. I know that I am sick and desperately need a doctor. I know that I am broken and need to be fixed.

What do you make of me?

But what if I’m also a Pharisee? I seem righteous. I seem like I have everything together. I’m filled with pride and the word ‘hypocrite’ could easily been seen among a list of my character traits. I think I know so much more than I actually do. I think I know better than others when I usually don’t.

What do you make of me then?

And what if I’m both? What if I’m both humble and prideful? What if I’m both healthy and sick?

What do you make of me then?

And what if my view if you is completely romanticized? What if I see in you only the things that I want to see? What if I hear what I want to hear? What if I hear nothing at all? What if you aren’t who I’ve painted you to be? What if, despite all the warnings and better judgement, I’ve tried to put you in a box? What if I don’t know as much about you as I think?

What do you make of me then?



Today, I went through my documents on my computer. One caught my eye. “No More Lola.” I opened it and read about the day we stopped talking. I read about the days, weeks, and months that followed. I read about how much pain I’d suffered.

It’s weird. I could see the girl who wrote those words, her heart displayed openly all over the page.

And it’s not me.

My mind couldn’t connect with it. My heart ached at the words, but… I was far from it. Something in me begged to stop reading, afraid for the sake of my being if I didn’t.

I’m so different now! I wish so badly I could take my current self and re-live those moments. Those last moments of speaking with you! The ways I responded to you! The things I said! I would do everything so completely differently!

I hope you get to meet the current me.

I am so sorry, Tyler. So much fault lies with me that I was blind to before. I am so sorry that you didn’t get the chance to be friends with who I am now. Not that I don’t still need to grow, because I do. I am so sorry I burdened you with things of strikingly little importance. I am so sorry I didn’t realize that at the time. I am so incredibly sorry that you didn’t feel like you could always tell me the truth. That I wasn’t trust worthy in that way. I’m sorry I let her hurt you. I am so sorry I didn’t see that happening.

Tyler, please hear me: I am so deeply, truly sorry I was so broken and damaged and I expected you to help put me back together. I am so sorry I leaned on you so heavily without giving you the chance to truly lean back.

Know that I love you. Know that I would not have made it through that year without you. Know that I will never speak an ill word about you. Know that I will defend you any time anyone else does. Know that I will never stop praying for you. And, though I’ve never that bad of you, know that I forgive you for any pain you caused me. I honestly hold absolutely nothing against you- I never have and I never will.

And know that God loves you.

Please let Him do so, Tyler. Let yourself get swept up into Him. Please, dive into His Word. Submerse yourself in it. Beg Him to let you know more of Him. Beg Him to be closer. Speak to Him. Truly. He has made all the difference in my life. Let Him drown you in His grace and mercy. Accept it, Tyler. Just accept it.

Two years ago today was the last time we spoke. So much has changed for me and I’m sure for you as well. But one thing hasn’t changed- you are one of the best friends I have ever had.

Contact me anytime but I understand if you don’t.

Missing you,