Photo by Austin Neill on Unsplash
When I miss you, I miss my best friend, the person I could sing with in the car on afternoon drives to nowhere in particular,
the way you knew everything about me and loved me anyway, even if it was just for a little while,
but when I remember you, I remember how I could feel you slowly liking me less and less over time.
As I continued to grow, you longed to regress to who you were before
until the novelty wore off and the resentment you refused to acknowledge built up so high that we couldn't ignore it anymore.
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