Stories

Feels Like Home

It had been a while since I had seen him. He grabbed me by my wrists and pulled me toward him, guiding my arms around his waist into a soft embrace. I could feel his gaze as I jokingly tried to wriggle out from his grasp. I stopped when he kissed my forehead. I couldn’t contain my smile. He obviously couldn’t either, I could feel the corners of his lips spread apart as he began to pull away. I pressed my face into the collar of his shirt and he rested his chin on the top of my head. He smelled amazing. Like the perfect Fall day. The kind of day where you can smell a bonfire in the distance, but by the time it reaches you, the remnants of the smoke simply smells like a scented candle. Moments like these, I just want time to freeze. I don’t want to go back into reality. Reality is filled with far too much pain and heartbreak. This place, the place where I can feel his eyes gazing down on me with nothing but love, this is the place I want to stay. 

Alas, reality set back in as I arose from yet another dream. There is no more love in his eyes when he sees me. Simply a look you would give to an old friend that you barely know. A friend you still care about, but not enough that you want to be involved in their life. 

I didn’t need a dream to remember. I could feel everything I felt in every moment of every dream. The feeling of butterflies when he grabbed my hand, kissed me, or even just smiled in my direction. I remember the feeling of being heartbroken every time he was upset. I remember how it felt when he said he loved me. I remember how it felt when he told me goodbye.

I remember. 

 Now I’m stuck in this cycle of wanting to move on, but these dreams of him haunt me. These dreams make me wonder if I will ever be able to move on. People tell me I will be able to move on, I know that I won’t. But I desperately wish there was a way for me to figure out what to do next. Right now, that is my weakest spot. I can’t do anything I used to love, because everything I used to love involved him. 

Every day I see him. But not like I used to. He doesn’t see me the way I see him, he doesn’t come up to me and tell me I look beautiful. I don’t even get a glimpse of his eyes because he can’t bring himself to look at me. Part of me wonders if he does that for him or for me. I would like to say that it is for him, that part of him still wants to be with me. Then he goes off, and once again, I am left in reality. 

I miss him. I miss him waltzing around with his arm draped over my shoulder. I miss that feeling I would get when I was around him, that feeling of home.

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